Vitiate
by Kichi
Summary: Set after Dies Irae - Day of Wrath. Joker/Harley with a twist. Joker is the one obsessed! Joker POV.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Vitiate

AUTHOR: Kichi

PAIRING: Joker/Harleen Quinzell

WARNINGS: Angst, obsession, violence, swearing..

NOTES: Yes, this IS inspired by the Joker blogs. I thought, hey that's a good idea; I haven't read any fan fiction where _he's_ the one who has feelings for _her_. Admittedly twisted feelings…

ARCHIVE:

SUMMARY: A J/HQ with a twist, meaning the Joker is the obsessive one. Joker POV

vitiate (vĭsh́ē-āt́ ) v. **–at-ed, at-ing. 1. **To impair the quality or value of. **2.** To corrupt morally. **3.** To invalidate. - ví ti.á tion n. - ví ti.á tor n.

Solitary confinement… Again… How _boring_. Some say if your bored you're boring. But they never said anything about being bored when you're locked up. It's pretty fucking impossible _not_ to be bored. I keep myself entertained pretty well most of the time, what with the drugs making me hallucinate. But soon the drugs wear off. Then the walls aren't fun to stare at anymore. Then lying in a heap on the floor or your cot isn't like being on a raft in the ocean, bobbing along, going up and down and up again. After awhile you're just lying there bored and a metal bar is digging into your ass. It could be worse though, much, much worse. The metal bar could be a penis. The thought makes me giggle for a moment until I remember a particularly sordid affair a few floors up. That stops the laughter. How annoying. I was finally amusing myself and I had to go and think of that. I'll forget soon enough, I'm kinda good at it.

It's been over a month now (I think) since I was brought back to this fucking shit hole. The first week was the worst. Or the best, depending on what mood I'm in. That first day I _did_ happen to laugh and cough so hard for so long that I threw up twice. That kind of amusement is hard to find. And for most people it's impossible to enjoy laughing at _yourself_ quite that much. But for a moment I had _really_ thought I wasn't coming back here. I thought the Bat was gonna throw me off the roof and never look back. I _knew_ better but still I hoped. I also dreamed I might escape the whole thing and stay out of here a bit longer. That, of course, would have been the ideal outcome.

Now I am stuck in a tiny room with no window, and only a toilet, a bed, and a sink. I _think_ I've been here a month. At this point I'm no longer sure. A week I stayed in the medical ward, I know that. And I only know that because I was in and out of consciousness for so long, when I finally snapped out of it I had to ask out of curiosity.

Gordon hadn't been lying, after all. I had been sick, very sick. So sick I was delirious with a fever that seemed to suck the life out of me after that first hilarious few hours. And here I thought he'd been trying to weasel his way onto my good side. Silly of him, as if I'd ever trust a pig, or believe a thing they said. So maybe a part of me knew he might be telling the truth. I didn't give a shit anyway.

So Gordon was right and I was wrong, it happens. I'm man enough to admit it. Like I care anyway. So I was wrong, throw a fuckin' party, you self-righteous pricks. I'll bring the cyanide-spiked champagne.

Anyway, I was sick. For days I was floating in a sea of blackness. I thought I was dead some times. Some times a part of me even thought that maybe Hell wasn't a man-made invention after all. I mean, here I was, floating in nothingness and I swore I could see these evil little bats with red eyes and they set upon me like I was a lone candy bar in a fat farm. I could feel their tiny needle teeth chewing my skin. I could taste my blood as they gnawed my lips off. I tried to scream, but it seemed too much effort. Every little thing required so much damn effort. So as you can imagine, I couldn't raise a hand to defend myself. They each felt like lead weights. I was covered with these tiny writhing bodies, their tiny teeth stabbing, tearing, ripping, and eating my flesh. I think I woke up screaming. I'm not sure. Even if I did, there was always someone close by to pounce on me and fill me full of sedatives that sent me straight back to hell.

It was interesting to say the least. And I do enjoy interesting experiences. Even if they are painful. _'Schmerz ist Freude'_* and all that. Well, some types of pain don't interest me, but I have to stop remembering that. Amnesia is bliss.

After awhile my head began to clear. The bats left me alone and I was once again in normal dreamland territory. The one where I had the big fucking knife and used it to chop everyone to little bitty pieces. I like that dream. Soon I was staying awake for most of the day. Then it seemed as soon as I could get up without fainting like a girl they threw me in solitary. And I didn't even do anything to provoke it. I mean, I didn't hurt anyone. I just ran. I jumped up and over other patients as the lay in bed, I dodged the guards, doctors, nurses, for a good fifteen minutes. I got out of the ward and sprinted.

Then something curious happened. I guess I wasn't ready for so much physical exertion, but I always _have_ to try. All I know is that one minute I was running, the next I had my head in someone's lap with a towel pressed to my head. I was gasping for air and completely drained. Then I was carried back to the medical ward, because for some reason the muscles in my legs refused to obey my commands. The young nurse that had been pressing the towel to my forehead drew back to let the doctor see me and I saw my blood all over the small cloth. I was pretty amused because I hadn't felt a thing. They sprayed my forehead with watered-down alcohol, soaking my hair, then glued my head. I was sort of skeptical, but the shit is still stuck to me and doesn't appear to be going anywhere. As a matter of fact, the dumb-asses got some in my hair and I've been playing with it ever since. But that's extreme boredom for you.

The best thing is to fantasize about finding out who Batman really is and slaughtering everyone he cares about. That makes me smile when I am ready to bash my brains out against the wall just for something to do. Picture the look of horror on his face! Oh, the tragedy! You're a monster, Joker! You'll pay for this! Heheh, and maybe this time, he'll mean it. Not like it will matter anyway, cause next time, I'm gonna kill _him_. I could probably cut his mommy and daddy to ribbons in front of him and he still wouldn't kill me. But maybe if it's his life or mine he won't be so squeamish.

I doubt it though. He seems bent on saving me from myself. He must be in love with me or something, not that I can blame him. I am gorgeous, and a genius! I guess he's just playing hard to get with the whole 'kicking-my-ass-thing'. It makes sense; he does seem kinda like a prude.

But yes, I think I need to start really putting an effort into killing him. Maybe then he'll get a clue. If I'm going to die some day I _need_ it to be by his hands. Nothing else is good enough. And in the meanwhile there's really no point trying to get him to kill me without endangering his life and slaughtering his loved ones. I've got to push him over the edge somehow. He isn't stupid. One day he'll realize that all along him and everyone else, deep down, is just like me.

***

I had no clue how long I'd been in that tiny room, but one day the door finally opened. Orderlies pulled me to my feet, and I, having just woken, was not all there yet. I got to shower, which actually felt amazingly good after being in that stifling room for so long. Then I was taken back to a new room. And shockingly it had a window! It was very small and I had to stand on the bed to look out it. And bars and chicken wire covered it. That tickled me, really. I mean- chicken wire? Hilarious. They left me with my breakfast, which I gobbled up in my usual manner. After that I jumped on the bed for a while, actually managing to go flying off a few times and getting banged up in the process. But soon it was all so boring I wanted to bash my head into the wall and send myself into oblivion.

Finally the door opened and two orderlies entered. They were built like brick shit houses, obviously the staff at Arkham thought I was dangerous. I smiled at the thought; they knew me too well already. And I so badly wanted out of the damned room that I decided to behave myself. Be a good boy; jump though their hoops and maybe I can see that sweet little girl who spread her legs for me five minutes after meeting me. That would be fun. I can ignore those base urges better than most but when the shit just falls in your lap, you get the idea. No one says 'no' to free candy. Unless it's offered by a weird looking dude in a beat up old van with no windows. They held up a straight jacket, smirking at the scowl on my face.

"Are we gonna do this the easy way, or the hard way?" I rolled my eyes and held out my arms. They wrapped me up like a Christmas present without the bow.

I realized quickly that I wasn't headed to the common room, much to my disappointment. God knew what I would have to do to get in there again. I shuddered to think. _Be good, be good, you can rip out their lungs later._ I told myself again and again. They brought me to a plain room with a desk and a couch. Bars on the windows, ugly mint green walls, gray and black tiled floors that easily dated back to the fifties, Jesus tap dancing Christ! Maybe I should kill a few rich stiffs when I get out. That would get some money into this place. Or maybe (since any money donated will probably go straight into Dr. Arkham's back pocket) I should just blow this shit hole up. That would be fun too. Either way, this ugly-ass décor has got to go.

They led me to the couch and one orderly roughly shoved me so that I fell backwards onto the rock-hard sofa. That pissed me off, but before I could kick them in their shriveled nuts, they grabbed my ankles and chained me to a ring bolted to the floor. Not five minutes after they left a man in a business suit walked in. This guy looked like a Ken doll- nearly perfect in every way with a fake smile and sparkly teeth. He had an expression of smug superiority stamped on his flawless features. I hated him immediately.

I deliberately zoned out as soon as this shiny, happy, shit head started talking. He was rattling off about something and seemed very pleased, probably sucked Arkham off so good he just _had_ to let this dildo take a crack at me.

"…went to Harvard…" Holy shit he's still talking. Time to knock this tool down a few pegs. But what would be most fun? Scare him till he wee-wee's in his little cotton panties? The thought made me giggle a moment and the moron stopped and gave me the eye a moment before he went on talking about how great he was. I could continue to ignore him, but that wasn't really fun. Besides, I'm no passive-aggressive pussy. I like a challenge. Although to be honest, this would most likely be anything but.

"…Have had a lot of success with patients in your unique situation." _Oh, really? _

"What do you mean by _that_?" I snarled in my most menacing voice. He blinked, his eyebrows rose, he faltered in his self-gratifying speech. "Hm? What exactly is my _situation_?" How can I behave when these assholes make me so damn angry all the time? The sharp edge to my words was authentic and he knew it.

"Please don't misunderstand. I simply meant victims of-"

"Me? A victim?" I scoffed, disgusted. "Who told you that? Hm? You just met me, so it couldn't have been me who described myself as a _victim_." I nearly spat the word. I wanted out of the straight jacket immediately. I wanted to choke the shit out of that cock-sucker. "I am NOT a victim. I never have been."

"So you did that to yourself then?" he said, poking his own flawless cheek with a finger.

"Oh, you wanna know how I got my scars?" The man's eyes lit up like he'd just won the lottery.

"Of course." He sat behind his desk and picked up a pen. I touched the edge of one with my tongue.

"Well you gotta do something for me first." Already he was changing his mind.

"If your not comfortable-"

"Oh it's not that, I just think you should earn things in life."

"Is that why you robbed-" he began with a sarcastic edge to his voice. The bastard thought he could fuck with me? If I hadn't been so repulsed by him and the very idea I might have laughed.

"Not me, just you. YOU need to earn – something.. It's obvious to me that you're a pampered little rich bitch who's had the world handed to you on a platter. You probably didn't even earn your degree, Daddy's money did." His mouth opened to protest, but I plowed right ahead. "Or you got it by putting that pretty mouth of yours to good use. So do me a favor, come over here a lick my balls and maybe I'll tell you something good." He sputtered in rage and rose to his feet, but before he could cry: 'How DARE you!' or something I continued to go ahead full steam. "And don't bite, just suck them long and hard, you look like a pro at it, what are you waiting for? I bet you've had lots of practice. I bet you did it for free too. So I won't degrade you by calling you a whore, you're just a slut after all. Come on, slut, get over here, get on your knees, and suck. My. Balls."

"Enough!" the pretty boy wasn't looking so pretty with his face that shade of red.

"Oh you like to get rough, do ya? Me too. Take this thing off me and I'll pull your hair and slap you around some. You'd like that wouldn't you?"

"Guards!" he bellowed.

"I didn't invite them but if you want them to take turns pounding that tight little ass of yours, be my guest." I felt laughter welling up. My smile must have shone like an 100 watt bulb. The orderlies entered the room and I began to giggle. "Boys, the doc here is hungry for some cock, and you don't have to be gentle either. He likes it hard, his asshole is probably the size of a golf ball so you can be as rough as you like!"

"Shut up!" the good "doctor" cried. I was giggling almost convulsively.

"On your feet, clown." The older orderly snapped.

"Not in the mood for butt hole? You're sure? You can fuck his mouth I'm sure, right Dr. Cum Dumpster?" I said, my voice rising as they began to unlock my chains. "I admit, three's a crowd but four is a party right?" The little rich boy looked ready to cry. "Don't be sad, darling, I'll see you again!" I cried as they hauled me to my feet. "I know your eager for nuts on your chin, maybe later! Come to my cell, I can smack you in the face with my dick if you like, I know you will!" I bellowed as they dragged me out the door."

Once outside I howled with laughter.

I assumed I would get thrown back in my cell for a few weeks or even solitary, but I was pleasantly surprised when they returned me to my room. I laughed for a long time about the things I'd said to that self-righteous prick. And I was even more amazed to be led back to the same room the next day. But another doctor entered the room this time. That really made me smile; the little wimp couldn't take it after all. No surprise there.

This man was older, heavier, bald, and wore glasses. He seemed like a total stiff. And he looked like he actually knew what he was doing. Perhaps teasing him would be ineffective. But I never let something like that bother me.

This guy was all business, I could tell right away.

"Your real name is not in your files, would you like to share it with me?"

"Harry." He perked up immediately and I fought to control a smirk.

"Do you have a last name, Harry?"

"Ballsonya." I snorted and the look of disgust on his face was so hilarious I almost pissed myself.

"So, We'll stick with Joker then."

"You might as well, that IS my name after all. Why people can't accept that, I'll never know."

"Perhaps because it isn't your real name. Why do you feel a need to hide your true self?"

"I'm not hiding anything, you retard. This IS my true self."

"If your going to resort to name calling I can have you escorted back to your room." I rolled my eyes in disgust. What a bunch of wimps.

"You doctors sure are sensitive. Nerds get teased, what can I say?"

"Are you ready to move on?" he said, eyeing me like I was a fascinating new species of insect.

"Whatever floats your boat."

"Why do you feel the need to adopt a new persona?"

"I'm just an honest kind of guy."

"And you feel this is a way to honestly express yourself as opposed to a acceptable role in society?"

"What is acceptable to the masses is vile to me. Conforming to the standards is weakness. You're a little sheep like the rest of them; I'm the slaughterhouse. Baaaaaaa!" I imitated a bleating sheep. The new doctor frowned.

"I wonder if we could discuss your childhood?" _Here we go_, I thought. This guy didn't want to waste any time.

"How about we discuss yours instead?" he was already shaking his head.

"That is not the objective here. We're here to discuss you."

"Well, we should start by discussing this issue you have with my identity. You see, I'm fine the way I am. Better than that actually. I'm man enough to do what I want, when I want. Can you say the same?"

"As I said, we're not here to discuss my life. Just yours."

"Someone like you doesn't have the courage to see life for what it really is anyway. You'd crack and end up in here." I said, nodding. It was true after all.

"And how do you perceive life?" I glanced around as if I was going to reveal a big secret and the moron feel for it, leaning forward as if to get a peek at the conspiracy.

"Eh, I can't tell you. You just seem a tad too.. fragile." I sneered; he still didn't take the bait. He was good. But not good enough. A healthy dose of fear would send him packing.

"I can assure you, I'm not." I scoffed in derision.

"Buddy, I've seen your type plenty of times. So let me fill you in on a little something not-so-secret. You would shit yourself if you knew the real story. You would run home to momma crying like a girl the whole way. You couldn't handle it for one second. I began to wriggle in my seat, then I began to struggle with the straight jacket with all my might.

"Wh-what are you doing?" ha. Panicking already. Did I call it or what?

"You want answers so badly?" I panted, "I'll give 'em to you." I grunted, forcing my arms away from my torso with all my strength. I could feel the leather straps stretching.

"Calm down, that's not necessary."

"Sure it is!" I chirped. "You want the dirt, doc? Your gonna get it! Just you sit tight, I'll only be a minute." But he couldn't stand another moment.

"GUARDS!" he shrieked. Just like a little girl.

Did I call it or what?

TBC….

A/N: Harley will be in the next chapter. Feedback is greatly appreciated. :D

_* Schmerz ist Freude - pain is pleasure_


	2. Chapter 2

TITLE: Vitiate

AUTHOR: Kichi

PAIRING: Joker/Harleen Quinzell

WARNINGS: Angst, obsession, violence, swearing..

NOTES: Yes, this IS inspired by the Joker blogs. I thought, hey that's a good idea; I haven't read any fan fiction where _he's_ the one who has feelings for _her_. Admittedly twisted feelings…

ARCHIVE:

SUMMARY: A J/HQ with a twist, meaning the Joker is the obsessive one. Joker POV

"In a mad world, only the mad are sane." Akiro Kurosawa

What I imagined was going to be another day of being drugged into a stupor turned out to be anything but. I had been rotting in solitary for a week before they finally let me out. They were so very angry with me for my little bit of fun with my two former shrinks. Each boasted degrees from prestigious schools and I had them terrified after only one session. It still puts a big smile on my face. So they forced pills and injections upon me and I drifted through la la land for a while. I don't mind much. When you're forced to entertain yourself you can become very creative.

I guess they thought bribery might make me behave, because I was taken to the common room. And there were all my old friends. The bald lady who'd brushed her hair away, the old man who growled at me, skeletor, and little fat guy with boobies. I rubbed my hands together a moment like a greedy old villain from a black and white movie. Who to play with first? A young man was chanting and rocking to and fro and I headed his way.

"The god machine is hungry for individualism and ripe brains. The skull farmers do their rain dance and pray the machine falls to sleep. She holds me close and whispers wet 'There are cannibals among us'…" I shake my head a moment staring at his bright, huge eyes that focus on nothing. "Mad in love with dry dead boys in the backs of abandoned cars, smoking the bones of children, plotting the murder of love…" I smiled a moment, enchanted. Is this what happens to Goth's when they read too much Edgar Allen Poe? I mean what a fucking nut case! So I felt like messing with him for a while was in order. I began to poke him at random until he finally stopped his rant and noticed me. "Can you remember how it felt to be alive?"*

"You're fuckin crazy, dude." I said, patted him on his goofy head, and continued to poke him at random. He swatted at me like I was merely an annoying fly and continued to babble nonsense. After A few minutes I realized he wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to me. He might as well have been blind. Annoyed, I looked around quickly to see if anyone was watching me. The orderlies were talking to each other, paying me no mind. I turned back to my prey and punched him in the head. He fell back, but did nothing. He didn't even look at me. I waved my hand in front of his eyes. Nothing. Boring, let's move on. I looked around but didn't see my little nasty girl, which wasn't really a surprise, just kind of disappointing. I stole the brush from bald lady again and threw it across the room.

"My brush!" she howled, spraying saliva everywhere.

Then a scrawny, bookish type caught my eye. Had I seen him before? Something about him looked very familiar. But nothing was readily springing to mind other than the annoying feeling that I knew him or had seen him before. I blamed the drugs; I was still a little loopy. He caught me looking at him and immediately looked away. _There's my bitch_, I thought with a grin.

He sat on the couch in front of the television and pretended not to see me. I snuck up behind him and shrieked: "RAAR!" He jumped about a mile and let out a very effeminate screech. He spun around to face me with wide eyes and pink cheeks. I burst out laughing uncontrollably. I love doing that to people! I tumbled down onto the couch next to him, elbowing him in the face (accidentally, I swear.) on the way down.

"Hi there." I said with a lazy grin.

"You're the Joker!" he gasped and shrank back.

"Yeah! It's pretty sweet, huh?" I chuckled at his dumbfounded expression. "And you are..?" I said, leaning a bit closer, intimidating him with a sinister grin, I admit it. Not like it was hard, the little wuss.

"Uh.. Jonathan Crane?" I remembered him.

"Not a Doctor anymore, huh? I remember you now. You made that fear gas, right?" His frown eased a bit at that. He was proud of himself for what? He failed. I did too if you want to look at it a certain way, but I changed my mind damn it. I'm allowed to do that. Besides, without dreaming of the day I get to play with Batsy again this place would drive me crazy. And what kind of pussy needs chemicals to scare people?

"Yes, I did."

"So when I break out again, you should come with me and let me use it on some people. It sounds very fun. Or better yet, make me a little something that can make people _laugh_ to death!" I gasped, I could see it already! All of Gotham's citizens screaming in terror and laughing until their dying breath. "It would be amazing! Think of it!" I gushed.

"Oh, I am." He said, his eyes dark. "You're telling me that you'll help me get out of here?"

"Sure, if you give me some fun chemicals to kill people with." He smiled, shaking his head.

"You're crazy-"

"No. I am. Not." I snarled, darting close and clutching his shoulder.

"Joker!" an orderly called from the corner of the room. "Want to go back to your cell?" I scowled at the muscle man and released Crane, smiling at the scrawny man who was again shrinking away from me.

"I'm not crazy." I said in my calm voice. "I don't like it when people call me crazy. Do you?" he slowly shook his head. "Alright then. Don't do it." He nodded quickly and sat up straighter.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly. I smothered a laugh. Of course he was.

"So, do we have a deal, or what?" I ask, holding out my hand. He looked at it like it was a scorpion, but eventually extended his hand and weakly gripped mine.

"Yes."

"Good!" I crowed and leapt to my feet. He was boring me and it was time to find a new distraction. And there she was, just outside of the common room, staring at me with keen fascination. She had hair that was too blonde to be natural, a pair of snooty eyeglasses, and a red button-down shirt with a black tie. I snorted a little at that and gave her a wink. She was talking to a pretty doctor with chocolate colored skin. I decided I needed a close up. I made my way over while they spoke to each other. When I tapped on the glass, they both jumped in surprise.

"Hi!" I yelled, hoping they could hear me. "Wanna play 'Doctor'? I can be the patient!" They both smiled indulgently at me. No one takes me seriously in this fucking place. "I have a terrible pain right here!" I said, pointing to my crotch. "You can make it all better, can't you?" I giggled and turned my backs on them. If they didn't want to play I could find someone else. But before I could pounce on anyone and make them give me a piggyback ride two orderlies grabbed me by my elbows and started to drag me out.

"Hey! I didn't even do anything, leave me alone!"

"Your time is up, clown, back to your cell." The shorter one said.

"That's not fair, no one else is leaving! I wanna watch TV!"

"It's time for your meds." The older and taller one stated."

"Oh." I murmured, deflated. Dinner and drugs. I hadn't realized it was so late. But in this place time meant nothing. It was a never-ending ebb and flow of meaninglessness. But I'd been having fun and wasn't quite ready to behave. I began to wrench and twist and pull as they tried to cuff me. But apparently they had been warned about my naughtiness and the taller one put me in a headlock and threw all his weight on me. We fell to the floor and I face planted on the ground and immediately tasted blood. The bastard put his knee right in the center of my spine, pinning me down as they quickly cuffed me and dragged me to my feet. I could feel blood dribbling down my chin. But no teeth were missing or loose, so I wasn't too upset. Then I felt a sharp pain.

"No!" I cried, but it was too late. The room was already starting to spin.

When I woke up I thought I was going to die. The room was spinning so fast it was nothing but a blur. It was like being drunk times ten. I immediately rolled off the bed and began to puke all over. The fucking bastards were going to kill me accidentally. This was probably the third time they had over-dosed me. And honestly, this time had to be the worst. I tried to sit up, but the movement almost made me black out. I closed my eyes, begging to sleep, but the spinning only increased. I remember yelling that I was going to die, but no one gave a shit. I remember gasping for breath, because the air seemed to be leaching from my room, or being stolen from my lungs. But mostly I remember being scared. I couldn't die this way, I couldn't.

After awhile I started hallucinating. The room seemed to breathe around me, the walls swelled and pulsated. They shrank until I swore I was going to be crushed, and grew so big it was like the size of the sky. Ghosts whispered in my ears, proclaiming me a damned murderer, and a savior respectively. Invisible hands raked their jagged nails across my flesh and invisible faces blew fetid, moist breath into my face. I gagged and choked and tried to escape. I pounded the walls and screamed at the top of my lungs.

Then a strange low throb sounded in my ears and grew until I swore I was going to go deaf. It made my head begin to pound in unison and I was pleading with anyone to stop it all and let me sleep. Soon I was curled in a ball on the cement floor, clutching the sides of my head, and moaning in agony. I hated it. I hated it so much and my anger seemed to make it worse.

When the door opened, the light burned my eyes so bad I screamed. I remember trying to crawl under my bed screaming: "Turn the fucking light off, I'm going blind!"

I don't know what happened after that. I woke in the medical ward. The puke-green walls made me shiver. I hated this place. There were too many bad memories already in this place. I was having difficulty keeping my eyes open, and when they were open the room was shifting and becoming a blur and I had to blink my eyes rapidly to straighten it out. But I was still so tired there was no real point in exerting myself. I closed my eyes again.

When I woke next I was starving, but my stomach felt like it was full of writhing snakes. Then, with virtually no warning, I threw up all over myself.

"Ah, fuck!" I shrieked. I hadn't even had time to aim away from myself. I could care less if I spewed all over the bed next to me, but this was intolerable. I continued to scream obscenities until a rather matronly nurse decided to see what the problem was.

I was busy throwing all my blankets to the floor; thankful they had chained my ankles to the bed and not my wrists. I peeled off my vomit-covered shirt and saw this Brunhilde glaring at me.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just puked all over myself. That's cool, right?" I snarled in fury.

"You will be fine, soon, young man." She snapped, her face expressionless. "In the meantime, you need your rest, so please behave yourself. I will get you new blankets in a moment." And she began to clean up the mess. Anything I'd planned to say was lost as pain tore through me. I groaned, curling up on my side, clutching my stomach. "Are you going to be sick again?"

"Probably." I moaned, feeling myself begin to sweat. She scurried off and returned with a bedpan. I would have laughed but as soon as I saw it, but I began to gag instead as she hurried to my side. I could feel all my muscles locking as I choked and shivered. But I hadn't eaten since the day before so all that came out was a thick glob of bright yellow bile.

The meds they gave me were always the same, the shitty food they fed us was the same, so what the hell was wrong with me? The answer was simple. The fuckers were poisoning me. They were trying to kill me, and why not? Killing Gotham's public enemy number one would probably make a lot of people happy. What else could it be? I couldn't just be sick again. I was sick only a few weeks earlier. If I get sick at all it's a once a year thing, and I hadn't been out drinking. It was either to food, the pills, or the injections. Or maybe all three. And I could only go so long without eating before I was ready to gnaw off someone's chubby fingers. I spit out my pills whenever I could, but the doctors, nurses, and orderlies had a habit of watching you take them, then looking in your mouth with a flashlight to make sure you weren't hiding them under your tongue. I'd been caught a few times already and sometimes they just held me down and gave me injections. It was infuriating, but when five burly men are piled on top of you, you'll do pretty much anything to get away from them. It's hard to breathe, and when you do get a whiff, it smells like rotten ass. _No thank you._

I lay in bed, dizzy, my head pounding. I was so tired of puking and spinning walls. I was ready to get the hell out of this shit hole. Or better yet, maybe I'd kill a guard and get thrown into solitary. They can't force me to take meds when the only contact between them and me is when they shove my food through a slot in the door.

I sighed and closed my eyes_. Tomorrow I'll kill someone…_

"You have a counseling session with your new doctor."

"Really?" I gaped, when would those morons learn? I don't need counseling, I'm fine the way I am. I would have to prove it to them. And I was planning on killing someone on that day anyway, might as well be the latest shrink. "Another lamb to the slaughter, eh? Well, that's fine." They didn't respond. They never did. They took me to a room and cuffed my hands behind my back, which I hated. It seemed that every time this happened my scars would start to itch, or my nose, or my nuts. It was truly annoying. They cuffed my ankles and chained me to the bolt in the floor and left. Then she came in. The pretty blonde with the matronly glasses and the outfit that was a juvenile attempt at sophistication at best. Her pure white lab coat seemed brand spanking new. She looked like a Barbie doll when she smiled. Perfectly straight, gleaming teeth, full, pouty lips, huge blue eyes with a thick fringe of dark lashes. She was actually quite enjoyable to look at. I caught myself staring at her tits when she sat down, enraptured by their bouncing. I licked my lips, caressing the scar across my lower lip; I felt a stirring in my groin as her eyes seemed to follow the movement. I was slightly put-off by my own reaction. She was the enemy after all. I was going to kill her wasn't I? That had been the plan.

_Had been._ Now I was shocked to discover I was too busy staring at her face and her tits and imagining all sorts of deviant activities to indulge in with her. She was in good shape; she could probably be quite flexible.

"Hello," she began, with her pretty, cheery smile. I was startled by the fact that it was truly genuine. "I'm Dr. Quinzel." I was shocked out of my reverie. I punched myself in the head, what the fuck was wrong with my brain? I knew those bastards poisoned me. "Is everything all right?" she asked, her expression concerned.

"I'm being poisoned, it's messing with my brain."

"Excuse me?" She seemed surprised. I scoffed.

"Look sweetie, I know you're new here, but you have to know by now. My meds are probably rat poison or something. I keep puking and seeing things and all I do is sit here and take whatever they tell me I have to. If I don't they force me anyway. You know that."

"No, that's-" I scowled at her.

"Aren't you my doctor?!" I yelled, suddenly impatient. "Aren't you supposed to listen to me?"

"Of course-"

"Nobody listens to me!" I rant on, trying to throw a little guilt trip her way. "No one gives a shit! Why the hell are you my doctor anyway? You look like a cheer leader!" Her face flushed a delicate pink at that.

"I can assure you, I'm completely qualified." She said, her mouth set in a thin line. I brushed that off, like I cared anyway. I had already decided I was going to get into her pants somehow. I wasn't sure why, other than the fact that she looked like she could bang like an ape. I'm not really the type of guy who gives a shit about chasing girls. If I'm horny I can jerk off. If some slut wants to fuck, great. Just get lost when I'm done. And most of them don't like that.

"Fine." I said, smiling charmingly at her. She returned the smile hesitantly. Such a pretty smile, I was amazed and annoyed at the same time. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Whatever you want to discuss, I'm here to listen. You said you think you're being poisoned?" damn it. _Stupid bitch._

"I don't THINK I am. I know it!" I spat. "I just had pneumonia a few weeks ago. I can't be sick again. They're trying to kill me!"

"They..?" she prodded.

"Don't play dumb. Doctors, nurses, the whole lot. Why should I say anything, none of you fucks can be trusted." I almost laughed at her wounded expression.

"We've only just met. Why would I want to hurt you?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"I don't enjoy hurting people."

"Sure you do. Everyone does. You mean to lie to me and say you've never gotten even with some catty bitch and enjoyed every minute of it?" she averted her eyes and I knew I hit pay dirt. "Of course you have, don't lie to me. I hate liars."

"I promise, I'm not going to do anything to hurt you." She said after a moment. I scanned her face briefly and saw honesty. I smiled again.

"Then find out what they are giving me and make them stop. I'm sick of puking my guts out every fucking day." She nodded and wrote something down. I knew she wasn't even going to ask what my meds were.

"Is anything else bothering you?"

"Ha! What isn't?" I snorted.

"Anything in particular?" look at her, look at her… she wants respect, that is plain as day. So she must have received very little growing up, or her 'colleagues' treat her like a little upstart. Perhaps a little sob story to pluck at her heartstrings.

"Well… it's kinda personal…" I trailed off and pretended like I didn't notice the eager expression in her face.

"You'll feel better if you get it off your chest." I was already forming an ideal story in my head.

"I did really good in school growing up. And I used to get my ass kicked for it. Cause I wouldn't help people cheat on tests and stuff. Nobody liked me anyway; especially after-" I indicated my scars. "Nobody respected me." She said up straighter. Bingo. "Everyone treated me like garbage. I didn't do anything to make anyone hate me, they just did. I don't know what made me even think of it. Maybe cause everyone treats me like I'm crazy now, and I'm not." She was writing furiously. It was adorable. I grimaced at the thought. _She's not adorable_; I thought in annoyance, _she's a piece of ass_.

"How does that make you feel?" I scowled, typical shrink reply.

"Misunderstood." I said with a faint smile.

"You feel you've been sent here in error?" she asked, looking at me with those big, blue eyes.

"Do I look crazy to you?" I smirked. She offered a fake smile and I sneered. The _bitch_. I'm not a fan of fake smiles, false sincerity_. I'll cut you a permanent smile, whore._ She tensed; perhaps my anger was all too visible? I frowned. "Well..?" I snarled, licking a scar.

"No. You don't." she stated firmly, her eyes wary. I sat back, grinning broadly. I liked the look of fear in here eyes.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you? What did I tell you?" She blinked and sat up straighter, putting her pen down.

"Of course not. I have no reason to lie to you." True enough, but I still didn't trust her. But then again, I don't trust anyone.

"So you say." She looked irritated. I smirked at her and she flushed.

"What do I have to do to prove my intentions are honorable?" Ooh, look whose busting out the big words! She deserved a cookie. Too bad I didn't have any.

"Give me a lap dance." I said, and before she could deliver a scathing reply I burst out laughing. "Just kidding. Joker, remember?" She frowned but seemed to accept it.

"Let's return to what we were discussing earlier. You said you wanted respect, but never seemed to get it. You said you felt misunderstood. Do you think there was anything you could have done to make people view you differently?"

"Why should I try to be something I'm not for a bunch of assholes? After awhile I stopped caring. They hated me, so I hated them. It worked out well. "

"That had to have made you feel like an outsider."

"I don't care if they hate me, so long as they respect me." She was writing again and I wondered what. Then I realized an hour was almost up and I hadn't done anything mean to her, or really tried to scare her. She must have noticed my confusion.

"Is anything else bothering you?"

"I can't figure out why I don't want to kill you. Why the fuck are you so special?" and I meant it. For some reason this seemed to please her immensely and she smiled prettily at me.

"Maybe because I really want to help you, not just study you and take notes like everyone else. I'll talk to Dr. Arkham about you medication, maybe we can get it changed."

"Yeah, right." I muttered sullenly, not really liking her answer.

"I promise, I'll do my best." She said, smiling again. I was about to say something else when the orderlies came in and made they're way over me. I was stunned to find I was disappointed. I had actually somewhat enjoyed talking with her, even if she wasn't as special as she was trying to appear. Well, she would be one day. I was going to make something special out of her. What that was I didn't know yet, but I was sure of it nonetheless.

Back in my detested cell all I could think of was her. And what she would look like with her ankles by her ears. I couldn't believe it. Still can't. I was attracted to my psychiatrist. I wanted to fuck her like an animal. I felt like an idiot. The last thing I needed was to be thinking with my dick. I tried to think about something, anything other than her. I even tried thinking about bad stuff, really bad stuff that I was forever trying to forget. I got angry and tore my bed apart. It didn't help. I kept remembering her smile, and her eyes, and those awesome knockers, and her ass that I'd only caught a glimpse of. It was driving me crazy. I had to get a hold of myself. She was nothing but a skank trying to learn my secrets, I told myself. But it didn't make anything better. I started thinking about licking her pussy and before I knew it I was as hard as a diamond in an ice storm.

"Fuck!" I howled. I tried to will my chubby away, but it was useless. I lay on the tattered remains of my mattress and rubbed one out in like, ten seconds. Well, maybe it took a minute or two but it was pathetic. I was kinda embarrassed. Scratch that, I was mortified at how quick I came. All because of some little hooker playing doctor.

Next time I saw her things were going to go a tad differently. I was going to send her packing… I cringed at the thought. I was probably going to pop a boner as soon as I saw her.

I was fucked.

TBC!

A/N: Ladies, picture that and drool. I know I am! Feedback is love!

* : Acid Bath lyrics – God Machine


	3. Chapter 3

TITLE: Vitiate

AUTHOR: Kichi

PAIRING: Joker/Harleen Quinzel

WARNINGS: Angst, obsession, violence, swearing..

NOTES: Yes, this IS inspired by the Joker blogs. I thought, hey that's a good idea; I haven't read any fan fiction where _he's_ the one who has feelings for _her_. Admittedly twisted feelings…

ARCHIVE:

SUMMARY: A J/HQ with a twist, meaning the Joker is the obsessive one. Joker POV

There are two tragedies in life. One is to not get your heart's desire. The other is to get it. – George Bernard Shaw

"What would you like to discuss today?" I shrugged. I sat silently at the couch, chained up as usual. I was angry, very angry with her. I didn't want to even see her face, much less talk to her. Through no effort at all on her part she had reduced me to a common man. I hated her for it. "Are you feeling all right?" I shrugged again, nodding.

"What do _you_ want to discuss?" I hissed, gazing at her at last. She seemed taken aback by the anger on my face. She smiled hesitantly at me, and I couldn't help but be struck again by her doll-like perfection. What I wouldn't give to carve a smile into that soft skin.

"Well, you of course. How are you feeling?"

"Disgusted." I snapped. She frowned and even managed to make that look beautiful. God, I hated her.

"Why is that?"

"Because I let someone make me feel a certain way. I didn't want them to, but it happened anyway." She began to write; I wanted to break her fingers one at a time. "I know that no one can make you feel anything unless you let them. Unless you give a shit about what they think and say. I haven't cared for a good while now, and I really enjoyed it. I hate people who make me feel…" I snarled. I was angry with myself as well. How and why was I spilling guts to her? Never mind the fact that she couldn't possibly know I was talking about her. But the fact that I was just so willing to tell her whatever she wanted to hear made me very uncomfortable. I reached up and grabbed my hair, pulling it.

"You're human. You can't help but feel emotions whether you like it or not. Everyone struggles with this." She said softly, smiling patiently.

"Fuck that." I snap, glaring at her. "I'm not like everyone else. No one has the right to do this to me."

"Do you think it would help if you told me what, exactly you were feeling?"

"No!" I blurted forcefully. I glanced down at my clenched fists then back at her. She looked concerned. She should, I wanted to strangle her.

"Would you like to go back to your cell?" it wasn't a threat, but I immediately bristled.

"Am I not allowed to be angry?" I snapped. She had the good sense to look apologetic.

"Of course you are. But we need to find a constructive outlet for these feelings. Pent up anger and aggression is not conductive to a therapeutic atmosphere." I snorted and began to laugh. The little fool, she really thought she could help me. She thought I _needed_ help, which was even worse.

"I love my anger. It's what gets me out of bed in the morning, honey." She frowned at that. Not professional, me not referring to her by her title. Fuck her.

"Ben Franklin said: 'Anger is never without reason, but seldom a good one.' What do you think of that?"

"Fuck Ben Franklin. That fat, bald, mother fucker."

"Have you heard of selective abstraction?" I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Maybe, enlighten me." I murmured. She smiled patiently; I wanted to punch her in the face until I broke her jaw, wouldn't be smiling much then, would she?

"It's when you only focus on the negative aspects of any given situation. Does that sound familiar?"

"Aw, you want me to think 'happy thoughts'? That's for the weak- people who can't accept the world for what it really is. I'm not one of those people, it's a shame you haven't realized that yet. Weak people are always looking for a crutch to lean on or someone to blame. God, mommy and daddy, whatever. I don't need that, never have. I don't need to delude myself into believing everything is ok. It's not and never will be. I accept it. I'm not afraid."

"You think God is a crutch?" she was trying to appear calm, but I could see annoyance in her eyes.

"The biggest one. Think of it. People use god and the devil as an excuse every time something goes a certain way in their life when in fact they have nothing to do with it because they don't exist. Nearly every aspect of Christianity is stolen from previous religions from the flood, to the immaculate conception, to the crucifixion. It's all been stolen from earlier religions to convert the pagans. So that tells me that the whole concept of god is a lie. And if he _does_ exist he hates us all anyway. People think that god is responsible for every act in their life that is good, and the devil is to blame for every time they fuck up. It's a bunch of fucking bullshit! The devil doesn't make me kill people, and he doesn't make other people hurt me. And god has never done anything for anyone or me. People follow blindly; their faith is their greatest weakness. They don't realize, couldn't bear to accept the fact that the reason their lives suck is because they allow it to. They never try to change their situation, they fucking whine about it. 'It's in god's hands.' There is no god." She was writing so furiously she had to stop a few times and wriggle her cramped fingers. It was sort of endearing.

"I see…" she murmured, not looking up.

"Do you? You said you were going to help me, and this morning I had to take the same pills I always do. You didn't do shit about that. I spit them out and got thrown to the floor, and they shoved them down my throat anyway. I had to throw them up after they left but by then it was almost too late. Most of them dissolved. I knew I couldn't believe you, but I wanted to, so I did. That was my mistake. I was an idiot." Her expression was shocked and dismayed.

"I talked to Dr. Arkham!" she protested. "He said he would look into it. I had a feeling he wasn't going to. But I hoped he would. I'm sorry." Aw, so sweet and earnest! She actually meant it. I was surprised to feel a bulk of my anger slip away. Maybe it was the fact that she apologized, and she should know better. She was the doctor, not me. She didn't have to apologize for shit; it was cute that she did though.

"Lesson learned." I shrugged again. Her forehead creased in irritation.

"If you can't trust me then who can you trust here?"

"The same person I always do: Me. You're just like all the rest of the doctors here. I don't know why I thought differently. That's why I'm angry. I hate depending on other people. I know it's pointless and stupid, and yet I still catch myself doing it sometimes. Then I get angry when people reinforce my lack of trust. It's so stupid. When will I convince my brain of what I know to be true? I can only depend on myself. No one else." She looked stricken. It was delicious. If I didn't know better I would think she really did care. But how could she? She was a complete fake.

"That's not true." Aw she wanted to argue, how simple, how sweet.

"Of course it is. I can't trust you, look at you: Everything about you is fake. That's not your real hair color. You don't really need glasses, I can tell they have zero magnification and you really don't use them." Her face was turning pink, my scowl turned into a sneer.

"And what about you-?" she retorted, anger getting the best of her. "Your makeup, is that supposed to be the real you?"

"Absolutely. This is the mask." I say, pointing to my plain face.

"I don't think so." I laughed.

"Of course you don't. You don't dare show your real self to the world. I do. You hide yourself behind a veneer of professionalism. But what are you like on the outside? Do you dress this way when you're sitting at home watching TV? You don't wake up looking that way."

"Everything you're saying is completely hypocritical. You put that makeup on, no one tattooed it on your face." I laughed harder.

"They don't have to, I'll always have these-" I pointed to my scars. "So either way, I could go out without it and people would still know who I am. You have to try and see things my way, or else how can you ever hope to understand me?"

"That's not our goal-"

"Says who? You? That's _my_ goal. You're not going to help me, you can't because I don't want it or need it. You really want to help, then fucking listen and try to understand. Try to see the world the way I do. Then you'll realize the only thing holding you back from what you want is yourself. Your fear, your sense of normalcy, decency, are nothing. They are utterly useless. The world isn't nice, happy, or normal. It's piss and shit and blood. It's people stabbing each other in the back to get what they want instead of having the balls to just take it. It's cowardice posing as righteousness. I am the most honest man you'll ever meet, my dear. I see what I want and I take it. I have my beliefs, and I live by them. I don't talk about them, I live them. You think you know the world and the way things work? You don't know anything. Your goals in life are probably to get married so you can get knocked up and live off some deluded pussy's money." Her face turned a dull red at that. She opened her mouth to speak but I plowed right on. "You couldn't give a shit that 7 million people in this country are divorced, because you have no clue that everyone gets sick of the same old dick or pussy after awhile. And those that don't get divorced are afraid to be alone. I don't know which is more pathetic. And women squirting out kids- don't get me started. The population on this planet has increased by five billion people in the last 100 years. It's disgusting. It's like humanity is a fucking virus. Those are people's goals in life, and they are utterly despicable. Marriage is a joke; the population explosion is too disgusting to even be funny. Someone has to wipe this fucking slime of the face of the earth. Why not me? And if you were so smart, why would you fall for that shit anyway? Because everyone else tells you that you have to be married and have kids or else you're a slut?" she looked angry. Angrier then I had ever seen her. All I was doing was explaining a few key beliefs and she gets all pissy. Most people do. They hate it when you point out how pathetic and futile it all is. "You want to do what is safe, what is acceptable. Who has the right to tell me what's acceptable?"

"Who gives you the right to take people's lives?" she shot back.

"I do. If you want to stop me, then kill me. If you think that's what is right, then do it. I do what I think is right, regardless of what other people think. I do what I want, because I'm not afraid of the consequences. I do what I want because I'm not content to live the safe life that you and everyone else are so bent on living. You're a coward, like everyone else. You could never understand me; you just don't have the fucking guts to handle the truth. It would break your little heart and have you crying to your mommy. And besides, you think I'm dumb enough to believe you really give a shit about me? I know you don't. You want to study me like I'm a newly discovered species of insect. You want to peel back my layers and see what's inside, for what? To write a book about me and get to talk for five minutes on the Daily Show?" her face turned a dark red at that, her eyes immediately averted. "You.." I had accidentally hit the nail on the head. I hadn't been serious, really, but her reaction proved it. "You little cunt! HOW DARE YOU!" I screamed. "You think you can make money off of me? You think you can get rich and famous off of me? I knew it! I knew you were a fake and a liar!" I began to tug on my cuffs with all my strength, knowing it was useless and not caring one bit. She leapt to her feet and pressed the call button. The orderlies rushed in. "You whore! You deceitful fucking whore! You print any of that and I'll cut your face open! I'll gut you!" I was losing it I knew, and even though I had been telling myself she was a liar like all the rest, it was shockingly painful. "I hate you, you fucking bitch, I hate you!" I was screaming, writhing as they dragged me out. I felt fists and nightsticks and heard her crying.

"Stop! Don't hurt him! It's my fault!" _Oh you bet your ass it is, bitch._

"You're a liar! A liar!" I shrieked as they dragged me down the hall.

I sat in solitary for another week, seething the whole time. The traitorous whore had lied to me. I had been expecting it, and yet I was completely blindsided. I felt like an idiot, I detested her for it. But mostly I hated myself.

I couldn't believe I had been lured by her false sincerity. I _was_ thinking with my dick. Had I been trying to impress her? What the fuck had I been thinking? She had proved me right, but it didn't make me feel better. I felt like I had been betrayed. I didn't mind being in solitary one bit. I didn't want to see anyone. I was too angry. I started biting my hands and arms and clawing at my face when I had torn apart everything I could in my cell. When my rage abated I sat dejected in the corner, my face pressed to the cold stone walls. And then I slept. I slept for hours and woke long enough to eat, then went right back to sleep. I knew I was completely overreacting, but I couldn't help it. I was so angry with myself for believing that little twat. I was astonished by my own stupidity. I stewed in my animosity. I wanted to find her and cut her into sashimi.

But there was still a part of me that wanted her. That was what really drove me crazy. Yes, I wanted to teach her a lesson, but the fact was that I just plain wanted her. As the week wore on I didn't think about cutting her up so much as I thought of simply touching her. I began to wonder if her skin was a soft as it looked. I wondered if she tasted as good as she smelled. I wondered what I would have to do to be able to find out. It sickened me, but there it was. I couldn't banish the thoughts or will them away. I could bash my head against the wall as hard as I wanted but when the room stopped spinning I still thought of her.

When they finally came for me I was taken straight to the therapy room. I wasn't too pleased. I still didn't really want to see her. But I didn't put up a fight. I was curious as to what she would have to say to defend herself anyway. They chained me down like usual and I waited. Ten minutes passed and when the door opened I was severely displeased to see an unfamiliar face.

He came in and sat at the desk. A rotund, bearded fellow who would be a shoe-in for mall Santa in a few years. I immediately was on edge.

"Who the fuck are you?" I snarled. He tried to smile, but I snorted and spit as far as I could in his direction. "Where's MY doctor? I don't wanna talk to you!" I began to struggle. I still had scabs on my wrists from trying to escape my cuffs during the last session and they immediately tore and began to bleed. I then scraped the scabs off my face. Blood was getting everywhere as I snarled and spit. "Where did she go? I'm not talking to you! Take me back to solitary, you fucks!" He stood staring at me in astonishment for a moment, watched me bleed and curse.

"Please, calm down!" he gasped.

"Where's Harley?!" I screamed, "I don't want you, I won't talk to you. You can suck my dick, you fucker!" The orderlies entered with Dr. Arkham not far behind. "Where is MY doctor?" I roared at him. "I don't wanna talk to him! What did you do with her? If you fired her I will cut off your dick and make you eat it!" The orderlies sat on top of me basically, crushing the air from my lungs. Arkham drew close with the needle. "If you wanna kill me grow a pair and stick a knife in me, stop poisoning me like a fucking coward!" I snarled. He sighed, shaking his head.

"This is medicine-"

"Liar!" I shrieked. Then the needle went in and all my strength was gone. Moments later I was out.

I awoke in my cell, strapped to the bed. I was even angrier then I had been at Harley's little slip-up. How dare they try to replace her? I say who my doctor is, not them. She's mine to get rid of, not theirs. They had to bring her back, they had to. I would not tolerate anything else, anyone else. If they didn't bring her back I was going to get out and find her.

TBC…

A/N: all feedback is deeply appreciated! And thank you HarleyHeart911 for your FB!

**One is not get your heart's desire. The other is to get it.**


	4. Chapter 4

TITLE: Vitiate

AUTHOR: Kichi

PAIRING: Joker/Harleen Quinzel

WARNINGS: Angst, obsession, violence, swearing..

NOTES: Yes, this IS inspired by the Joker blogs. I thought, hey that's a good idea; I haven't read any fan fiction where _he's_ the one who has feelings for _her_. Admittedly twisted feelings…

ARCHIVE:

SUMMARY: A J/HQ with a twist, meaning the Joker is the obsessive one. Joker POV

"_She came up towards me with the light like it was the like light of heavenly grace and all that cal coming with her, and the first thing that flashed into my gulliver was that I would like to have her right down there on floor with the old in-out real savage." – A Clockwork Orange_

I woke up disoriented. Hands were upon me and I couldn't help but panic. I hate to be touched, let alone when I'm unconscious. I began to struggle, but my arms and legs felt like Jell-O.

"Leggo.." I heard myself mumble. I was hauled to me feet by the ever-silent orderlies. "What the fug.." I slurred. They practically had to carry me, my legs weren't cooperating either. They took me to the therapy room- again. I started to kick my feet, trying to trip them, or somehow slow them down. It didn't work. They dragged me in anyway and threw me on the couch. "Aren't you assholes even gonna let me eat?" I complained. They ignored me, like they always do.

When Doctor Quinzel entered I was honestly shocked. I thought she had fled long ago back to mommy and daddy. I was somewhat relieved I was wrong. Perhaps my tantrum had worked after all.

"Your back!" I gushed, less pleased than I let on. I was impressed that she was back, but I still had lingering doubts about her. After all, I had discovered that she was a gold-digging, fame-hungry whore like all the rest. It wouldn't do. Not. At. All.

She smiled softly and I simmered inwardly. _Bitch. Lying, evil, stupid, cunt bitch. _

"Yes, I hope that's all right. It seemed what you wanted. Especially after last weeks incident." I snorted.

"Does it? It should. I wouldn't admit anything to that fat prick. I didn't want to talk to him." Her smile broadened and her cheeks turned a little pink. Interesting to say the least.

"I really feel I should apologize for how last weeks session ended." I smiled, silly girl. When would she learn? She needn't apologize for anything. But I would never tell her that.

"Should you?" I sneered. She faltered, her face growing darker.

"I really think you got the wrong impression." I stiffened. She was going to continue the lie, was she? What did I expect after all? I guess I expected more, that was my problem.

"Did I?" I scoffed. Her face was not losing the pink hue, further implicating her guilt.

"I think you did. I'm not here to write a book about you, or about our sessions together or anything you tell me. Let's be frank. I don't wish to be sued, and you would be well within your rights if I were to try to cash in on anything you've told me in confidence. And you would win. There is no doubt in my mind. It would be stupid of me and I am not stupid." A slow smile spreads across my face.

"Of course." She smiled again, this time without reservation. That lovely, earnest smile that made me feel goose-bumpy.

"What would you like to discuss this week?" she asked, her attention keen, her pen poised.

"Do you know pure pleasure, doc?" I said, smiling wickedly. She skillfully restrained a blush. "Do you know what it means to hold someone's life in your hands and to know, this can end at my whim. This piece of shit can be erased as I so choose? Of course you don't - your pleasure, I'm sure, comes in another form. Love-" I sneered in disgust. "Love is a weakness. I hate love, I love hate." I chanted, singsong. "Love is for those who cannot abide loneliness. Love is for the fools who need another to cling to. Love brainwashes you into being someone you're not. I hate love. It fucking disgusts me. It's not real anyway. People mistake passion and lust for love on a daily basis, is there any bigger fool? To love an action, an activity, a thing- that is nothing, nothing of consequence. It can't hurt you. A hobby can't tell you: 'I don't feel the same anymore'; a pastime can't make you insanely jealous, ready to maim and kill for what-? Some fucking pussy? It makes me sick the way it makes people act. When all along it's merely the drive to reproduce that motivates us. There is no love. Love is not real." She stared at me, her eyes wide in shock for a while. I giggled and winked at her.

"Did someone hurt you-?"

"Nothing I can't handle, my dear. Nothing worth mentioning. Nothing worth remembering. No one is worth that. No one is worth marrying, bearing stupid fucking snot-nosed rug rats with. Children sicken me anyway. I hate them. I hate their crying, their whining, and their neediness. It's fucking bullshit. I hear a kid cry and I want to smash its face in. You see- humanity is both the greatest and most disgusting product of our planet. I've said this before, but do you really understand that I truly mean it? And what's more, can you grasp its truth? Think about it, think about how humanity strives to be better, and fails again and again. Doesn't that tell you something? Can you understand? We're nothing but fucking animals. Souls mean nothing; religion doesn't make us any better. Our understanding of the universe makes us no better than the lowliest worm scraping along its belly through the mud. This is hilarious, you see? People strive for nothing. People try to become something and in the end it means nothing. Your degree, your failures and triumphs mean nothing. You and I and everyone else are nothing but worms in the mud. Eating dirt, shitting dirt. Fucking worms. That is life. Eat, shit, fuck, crap out offspring so they can do likewise. It's fucking foul. This is why people need to be chopped to pieces. This is why people must die. So many people.. so sick. So wrong."

"I see.." I scoffed.

"No, you don't. And I doubt you ever will." She couldn't hide her disappointment at that. She must have this idea that she was special. She was all right, but not for any reason that she might imagine.

"I'd like to." She said, and her earnest desire really set me off. I began to laugh. And it was a full-blown laugh-so-hard-I-could-choke laugh. And I did. I almost threw up. When I could breathe again I looked at her and the expression of dismay and misery on her face set me off again.

"Darling, I would love it if you could as well! Your just my type, we could have _so_ much fun together!" I cried when I was able to talk coherently. Her face flushed that delicate pink again, and I caught her licking her lips in a way that made me shiver. "It would not be too difficult, really. You know my beliefs; you just have to realize they're the truth. Then you would be like me- unstoppable. But you have this silly idea of morality, decency-" I nearly gagged on the word. "Values, all that fucking garbage meant to subdue the common man into subservience. Like I said five minutes ago- pleasure- that is what is important to me. I live by the pleasure principle, which I'm sure you know all about." She said nothing and for a moment I wondered if she really did know. But I barreled on ahead anyway as I usually did. "I want what I want and I get what I want and no one will stop me. That is what life is for me. And sometimes I want large amounts of people to die. Not only is it hilarious, but also it's just pure pleasure. And, as I've said before, there are so many people on this planet; I'm actually doing the world a favor. People should thank me."

"But didn't you want to kill the Batman? He's still alive by all reports." Oh, sweet, silly girl. Of course she wanted to know all about my dear, dark avenger and what he meant to me.

"I did, at first. But then I realized how much fun he was. Now I can't imagine life without him, it would be so boring." She nodded as if she understood and wrote in her little note pad.

"Alright, that's enough for now, but I was asked to get your thoughts on group therapy. Would you be willing to join the other's this afternoon?" It was hard not to light up like a Christmas tree. What I wouldn't give to hear everyone's sob stories. Of course, when I could no longer control my laughter the fun would end, but I'd at least get to have a little bit.

"Ok." I grinned, and then thought twice. "Wait, wait!" I cried, and she appeared startled. "Are you going to be there?" She relaxed immediately, her smile gorgeous.

"I will."

I was starving by time I got back to my room. A few minutes later I was treated to burnt toast, runny eggs, and gray hash browns. I devoured it all anyway, trying not to notice how disgusting it was. The orange juice was good at least. Then after awhile I decided to work out. I didn't want to be flabby the next time I saw the big, bad bat. That would never do. So I put my back against the wall and made like I was sitting on a chair. I did that until I collapsed. My legs felt like rubber afterwards so I did push-ups until my arms were in the same condition. Then I did some sit-ups until I thought I was going to puke. I was breathless and sweaty when two orderlies came to retrieve me.

"What the hell were you doing in here?" A tall, dark-haired one asked.

"Working out. And by the way, I can't remember the last time I took a shower, so maybe I could take one? I feel kinda icky." The shorter, dark-skinned man laughed.

"That never bothered you before." I was so amazed that these guys were finally talking to me that I decided not to bash his brains in.

"Well I never had a hot doctor before. Gotta be sexy for the ladies." I sneered. They laughed and took me to the showers and let me scrub myself off really quick. Will wonders never cease?

They were right though. I didn't give a shit. But I imagined Harley would be a little grossed out if I smelled like ass. And I was sort of trying to entice her, not disgust her. I still wasn't sure how sickened she was by my scars, but I had yet to catch her staring at me with a look of revulsion. Everyone else had so far. Not that I gave a shit what anyone else thought. But she was different. She was the only one I wanted to fuck senseless.

Group therapy consisted of so many loons and goobers I almost bit through my lip trying not to laugh as soon as I was escorted into the room. Doc Harley was there, and she gave me one of her prettiest smiles so that I couldn't help but grin deviously back at her. I was shoved into a seat and my chains were amazingly not hooked to the floor as usual, but then I realized, no one else was chained up at all. I saw the former doctor Crane, and his amazement at seeing me immediately turned to unease as I gave him an evil grin. A young black kid sat next to him who was constantly moving. His legs crossed and uncrossed repeatedly, he fiddled with his hair and his hands, and he rocked back and forth like the classic nutcase. Next to him was the tiny anorexic chick I had dubbed "Skeletor". Next to her was the little fat guy whose titties I'd grabbed. He glared at me resentfully and rubbed his chest. I snorted and quickly smothered it with my hand. Couldn't get booted out before the fun began. Next to him was a huge, unfamiliar guy. His hair was long and shaggy and bleached blond. His skin was darkly tanned, and he stared at my doc Harley while licking his lips. I immediately hated him. Next to that fuck sat the little wimpy boy I'd berated for crying (whom I'd made cry to begin with, hehe). Next to him was an older man with thick glasses, and while I wasn't sure, something about him screamed: "PERVERT!" he was eyeing Harley up as well. He was next to me. On my other side was a morbidly obese female – I think. Her arms were covered with scars, which was nice, but if she'd been trying to kill herself she'd made the cuts in the wrong direction. So she was either a total dumb ass or a total pussy. Next to her was Harley, and next to her was another doctor who I'd yet to meet and intimidate. He was dark skinned, dark haired, and dark eyed. Probably from India. How sweet, fresh meat.

He cleared his throat and most of the people in the circle looked to him. I was gazing sideways at Harley, imagining her naked, on her knees, blowing me.

"I'd like to begin by introducing a new member to our group." He turned to look at me and his smile faltered somewhat when I slowly, lasciviously licked my lips. "He goes by the name Joker, everyone, say hello."

"Hi, Joker." Everyone said in monotonous tones. I couldn't help but scoff in derision.

"Hi!" I said, my voice echoing throughout the room. Several of the nuts in the circle cringed. I smiled winningly.

"We're going to start off today's session by continuing where we left off last week. We were discussing Don's issues concerning restraint and personal space." The good doctor called for Don's attention and I gazed about to see who Don was, and lo and behold it was the bleach-blonde guy. And he was staring brazenly at Harley. I glanced at her and she looked more than uneasy. She looked a little scared. I immediately tensed up. The fucker was going down. "Don?" the little Hindu doctor asked again. Finally the bastard came back to the present with a creepy smile glued to his face.

"You didn't introduce her." Don said with a southern accent, staring at Harley again.

"You don't need to know who she is." I snarled, glaring at him. He blinked in astonishment as he turned to face me.

"There's no need for hostility, Joker. He's only curious. And I did forget to introduce Doctor Quinzel. I apologize."

"No he isn't." I snapped, on edge. "He's looking at her like he wants to cut her up and fuck the pieces." I heard a few gasps but was still glaring murderously at the big hick.

"If you're going to have a problem-"

"I won't as long as he stops staring at her like that. She's my doctor, not his." Don was starting to get angry. His eyes narrowed and I could tell he was thinking he could snap me in half like a twig.

"Like you could stop me, ya little pussy." He drawled.

"I'll poke your fucking eyes out and make you eat them." I hissed. This was not how I'd envisioned this little diversion. I was really getting fucking pissed.

"Both of you will be taken back to your rooms if you don't stop this right now." Little Indian doc said. Don sneered at me and I gave him a twisted grin in return, pleased to see that it made his stupid smile falter. "Now, Don. Have you been keeping a journal?" I bit my lip but couldn't completely stifle a smile.

"Yes." Don snapped.

"Has it helped to sort out what you've been feeling lately?" I glanced at Harley again and was pleased to catch her eye as she was trying to look at me without being obvious about it. I also caught Crane's eye and his were wide with something akin to shock. I gave him my evil death glare and was pleased to see his skin turn lily white as he hurriedly dropped his gaze to his lap.

"Sort of." Don muttered. I looked at Don again and grinned as I began to crack my knuckles. "I've been dreaming about doing- 'it' again. I wrote about it."

"Did that help? Did you feel relief after you'd written in your journal, or did the feelings intensify?"

"I felt better."

"Does anyone wish to add to this?" I stopped listening. He was doing it again. Staring at Harley with that look in his eyes. I was going to hurt him; it was only a matter of when.

Suddenly the fat girl next to me began to scream and it set off a chain reaction. Less stable members of the group erupted into fits and as the little doc and my doc were trying to restore order, Don hastily got to his feet and began to lurch toward Harley. He grabbed her hair and yanked. She screamed but by that time I had already launched myself at him. I brought my cuffed hands over his head and jerked them back over his throat. He gave a strangled squawk and fell backwards. All of his weight landed on me, I felt hysterical laughter welling up. I let it loose with pleasure and I dug my knees into his back and pulled my cuffs with all my might. I felt something give in his throat as he thrashed and knew I had him. Orderlies were tugging at my cuffs, trying to unlock them and pull me loose, but I could feel him begin to convulse as he suffocated. A few solid blows to the head weakened my grip and I was suddenly pinned to the floor under different bodies. I opened bleary eyes to see Don still thrashing weakly.

"Get off me!" I groaned. "He deserved it, he's a fucking pervert!" I choked. The words left my mouth bloodstained. They hauled me to my feet, and I spit blood. I realized my lower lip was split. Not like it was the first time that had happened. I spit more blood in Don's direction. "Pervert! I shoulda ripped your cock off and made you eat it!" I glared at everyone in the room as they dragged me out. "Anyone else touches her and they get the same!"

TBC…

A/N: When I get anonymous reviews telling me to hurry up, I shut off my computer and watch TV instead. I was flattered at first, but when I got more I got pissed. I can't just crank this out and if I did it would suck ass. So if you think your going to gain my sympathy and make me write faster, think again.

Or at least have the balls to log in so I can tell _you_ this instead of everyone. I like reviews, but I don't appreciate people trying to tell me what to do.


	5. Chapter 5

TITLE: Vitiate

AUTHOR: Kichi

PAIRING: Joker/Harleen Quinzell

WARNINGS: Angst, obsession, violence, swearing, sex

ARCHIVE:

SUMMARY: A J/HQ with a twist, meaning the Joker is the obsessive one. Joker POV

NOTES: HARLEY POV in this chapter! I'm having a hard time doing this without delving into Harley's feelings, so here's an interlude...

A/N: from here on out there's probably going to be a few sex scenes. If you can't handle it, don't read it. This is your only warning.

Interlude 1.0 - Harley

"_My heart to you is given: Oh, do give yours to me; we'll lock them up together, and throw away the key."_

_--Frederick Saunders_

I'm so confused. I really don't know what to think. At first I was scared of him, of course I was. I'm not crazy. I know all about the things he's done. I've read the police reports. I saw it on the news as it was happening. And the makeup, that grotesque mask- and that shrill, mocking laughter- it gave me chills.

When Dr. Arkham approached me about becoming his psychiatrist, I was elated and terrified at the same time. I wanted to do it so badly. I knew it would lead me to greatness. All I needed to do was gain his trust. But I was so afraid. I'd heard about his attacks on the orderlies, his strength was powered by rage and madness. It was always a struggle to control him. He'd already gone through several different doctors, most after one session. And everyone else was afraid to go near him. But why me? I was new, inexperienced, so why me? It was desperation and I knew it, but I wasn't ashamed to take advantage of it.

When I first saw him, I was stunned. He was... beautiful. I can't put it any other way. Even with those terrible scars he had the face of an angel. At least, when he was calm. His sinister grin still makes me nervous. I can't imagine the dreadful horrors he's dreaming of. Even so, I was attracted right away, I've been trying to fight those feelings ever since. But it's hard when he smiles at me. A real, genuinely beautiful smile. Not that wicked sneer that promises pain and death. And when he spills out his beliefs I know he wants me to understand. And I know he's sincere. He's lied to everyone else about _everything_. He's never given them even the tiniest peek into his psyche. I think that's why I just let him talk about whatever he wants. I don't want to put him in a position where he feels he has to make up stories. I don't want him to shut down and refuse to acknowledge me.

I hate to admit it, but he's been more honest with me than most men I've known. How sad is that? People are constantly trying to be something they're not. Myself included. He is blatantly honest about who he is and what he believes. Consequences be damned. I find it admirable in a way. If only he wasn't a sadistic murderer. I would be in love with him already. But how could I ever really trust him? How could I know he wasn't planning on killing me? Spreading my legs wouldn't spare my life if he decided it would be fun to watch me scream and see how much I can bleed. It terrifies me. HE terrifies me.

But what scares me more is the realization that I would give almost anything to kiss him, just once. To see if those scars slicing down his lower lip are soft or rough. To see if his body feels as good as it looks. To see if he has more scars, and to taste them. Oh God help me! What the hell is wrong with me? He's a sociopath. He's a killer. He has no remorse for any of his actions. It's so incredibly wrong to feel this way about him, but every time I try to stop thinking about him it only gets worse. I was getting way too comfortable with him, even as he ranted about how disgusting humanity was. But I got a wake up call.

Last week he completely lost it, and for the first time since I met him, he really scared me. I admit I was entertaining thoughts of writing a book. He stumbled upon it by accident and had I been more experienced, he would have never realized. At least I like to think so. But to be completely honest, he would have guessed anyway. His eyes see more that he lets on. Much more. Those eyes stare right through you, strip you bare to your soul, exposing everything. Nothing gets past him; he's picked people apart in minutes. What made me think he wouldn't figure it out?

His reaction was devastating. He began to curse, scream, and call me every rotten curse word he could think of. He said he was going to kill me, that he hated me. He tried to wriggle out of his restraints, but out of sheer terror I already called the orderlies.

But the part that upset me the most was the look on his face. He was hurt. I could see it in his eyes. He felt betrayed. It was obvious. I'll never forget it. He actually _had_ begun to trust me, and I blew it. The guards began to hit him and I began to cry. It was my fault; I'd made him angry. They didn't listen. They took joy in punishing him. They dragged him out kicking and screaming. Before they pulled him into the hall he shot me one last glance and that said it all. Mistrust, anger, and the worst part was that I could see the anger was also directed at himself. I had just reinforced his belief that no one could be trusted. He screamed that I was a liar as they dragged him down the hall.

It was difficult to deal with. I left early, went home, and cried. I felt like such a fool. Joan Leland called a few hours later to tell me to take the next day off as well. When I got back they told me that he was in solitary, and I was to be reassigned. I didn't know whether it was the board's decision or Joker's. I confess I was far more upset at the idea that it had been Joker's decision.

But the next week I learned it hadn't been his at all. He immediately began to throw a fit upon sight of his new doctor, Dr. Lieberwitz. He clawed scabs off his face, injuries he'd inflicted upon himself in solitary. This fact alone unnerved me. To be so angry to hurt yourself … I couldn't fathom it. He'd also tore scabs on his wrists from trying to escape his cuffs. He screamed and bled and demanded to know where I was. He accused Dr. Arkham of poisoning him. Then he threatened to castrate Dr. Arkham and force-feed him the severed parts. And all because he wanted me back.

I should have been horrified, but I was thrilled and secretly flattered. I had to wait another week though. He'd been sent back into solitary to 'calm down', as Arkham put it. And I didn't mind as long as I would get to see him again. It occurred to me that I was no longer much concerned with treating him. It seemed an impossible task. And what could I really do when he refused to change, refused even to see his behavior as abnormal or immoral? I just wanted to see him, to hear him speak.

I was given a group therapy session to attend with Dr. Rushil Haritbaran. He asked me to ask Joker if he'd like to attend a session at the end of it. I nearly exploded with laughter in the sweet man's face, thinking of Joker's reaction. I agreed to ask him, knowing all the while it would only be a source of amusement for him if he agreed at all.

His eyes lit up when I saw him next, although I could still see anger in them. And perhaps it was because of that, that I couldn't admit the truth to him. I think he knew anyway. He watched me the whole time, that spark of rage still smoldering in his eyes. But I explained myself without giving myself away entirely. I admitted as much as I was willing. He seemed to accept it. Then I smiled and he sort of shivered and smiled back. It was a gorgeous, sexy smile that made me melt a little. Then he began to talk as if nothing had happened. But what he said disheartened me.

"…_I hate love, it fucking disgusts me, its not real anyway…"_ I wasn't sure what was more upsetting, that he truly believed it, or that I cared. Did I really expect someone like him to be capable of love? Of course I did. And he most likely is, but it would be so difficult to get him to trust anyone enough to believe that they truly cared. If someone told him they loved him, he would probably attack them, screaming "LIAR!" the whole time. It was one of the saddest things I'd heard him say yet.

I tried to understand. I claimed I did and he rebuked me instantly. I said I wanted to understand and he laughed until he choked.

"_Darling, I would love it if you could as well! Your just my type, we could have so much fun together!"_ he said when he could speak. It sent chills up my spine. The idea immediately obsessed me, but the session was over. I approached him with the idea of the group therapy session. He agreed, recanted, and then asked if I would be there. I said I would and he gave his consent.

What happened there, I somehow could never have anticipated. I had expected him to laugh throughout the entire session. But I forgot about Don Barculo. And at the time there was no reason to think about him. While Joker was in solitary I had attended my first group therapy session with Dr. Haritbaran. Don Barculo watched me the whole time, even when it was his turn to speak. It made me definitely uneasy.

Even before Dr. Haritbaran introduced Joker I could see him glaring at Don with undisguised hate in his eyes. And again, Don stared at me the whole time. I admit, he scared me. And if anyone asked why he scared me more than Joker, the answer was simple. The Joker was not a rapist. And it wasn't surprising why. I knew all about his encounter with Andy Krekolankis and the subsequent trauma he endured. There was also suspicion that it wasn't the first time he'd been abused in such a manner. In that respect I felt completely safe with him.

He looked at me and whatever he saw in my face enraged him. When Don asked who I was he was immediately on the defensive_. "He's looking at her like he wants to cut her up and fuck the pieces." _ He snarled. I was shocked at the anger and hostility radiating from him. Dr. Haritbaran calmed them down and the session continued until Caroline Burr began to scream at the top of her lungs. I saw Don leap to his feet and barrel toward me with a hand outstretched. He grabbed my hair and yanked so hard I screamed in pain. Then he let go and I saw Joker on his back, strangling him with the chains that linked his handcuffs. Don fell back and landed on top of him, but his grip never slacked. The orderlies were trying to separate them; Joker was laughing madly, Dr. Haritbaran was trying to console me… And I could only stare at him as he murdered Don Barculo. I couldn't tear my eyes away as he howled with laughter, as the muscles in his arms were taut like steel cables, as Don began to convulse. _"Anyone else touches her and they get the same!"_ He screamed as they restrained him.

I've never seen someone die, let alone get murdered right in front of me. When they dragged him away I realized how badly I was shaking, but I was still so amazed that he defended me, that he saved me. I couldn't think of anything else. I _wouldn't_ think of anything else. I had to see him. I knew he would be back in solitary and for killing another inmate he could be in there for months. I couldn't stand the thought of not seeing him for that long.

So I broke a few rules. I broke into Dr. Arkham's office and stole one of his access cards. Then I looked up his location on his computer. Basement level, North wing. Violent offenders. I raced down to the elevator after I made sure everything was in its proper place in Arkham's office. I knew he might be sedated, but I didn't care. I had to see him.

There was one guard posted during lunch hour. Imagine my relief when I saw him sleeping at his post. I went into his station and turned off the cameras.

I didn't even bother to take a peek inside his room before swiping the card and letting myself in. He was awake, but drugged. I sighed, a bit crestfallen. He wasn't even really aware I was in the room. He lay on his side, his eyes glassy and staring vacantly. I knelt by his side and finally touched those jagged scars. He jerked his head, and his eyes clenched shut.

"It's me… Harley." I said, hoping to reassure him. His eyes opened slowly and he wearily blinked at me.

"Why… I only dream… of you anymore…" he slurred. I was taken aback by the statement and at the same time overjoyed. He dreamt of me? I was stunned, flattered, and… excited. I wanted to kiss that wicked mouth so badly. But he was out of it, and I couldn't bear to take advantage of him. He'd been hurt too much and if he realized someone was touching him at all he might freak out. I didn't want that.

But I couldn't stop. His hair- those curly, dark blond locks, those evil scars. He began to blink rapidly and move restlessly. He was trying to snap out of it, I could tell. I immediately released him and backed away; afraid I'd upset him. I was wondering what I could give him, if anything, to counteract the sedatives and not make him sick at the same time. But it wasn't necessary. His eyes finally opened and his stared at me for a moment in astonishment.

"What…?" was all he managed to say.

"Are you awake?" I asked as he slowly sat up. He rubbed his eyes, shook his head, and blinked at me again.

"I'm not sure." He said with a lopsided smile. "Are you really here?" I wanted to kiss him so bad. I knew it was insanity to try, but I hadn't been acting rationally where he was concerned for a while. I came closer and knelt between his spread knees. His eyes widened and I reached out to cup his cheeks. He pulled back a bit, his brows furrowing in confusion and alarm.

"I won't hurt you." I said. He frowned and seized my hands and drew them to his face.

"I'm not afraid of you." He muttered. But again he recoiled as I drew close. But I ignored it and leaned in further until our lips met. I felt a jolt run through him and he groaned. Suddenly his arms were wrapped tight around me and I was in his lap. His tongue slid in my mouth and I moaned, melting against him. I felt his erection trapped between us and ground my ass against him, forcing another moan from him. It was music to my ears.

He was kissing me like I'd be torn away at any moment, which was a real possibility. It scared me just as much, so when he began to unbutton my shirt I did not deter him. When his hands slid under my bra I arched against him, I ran my tongue across one if his scars and he shivered violently.

"You don't hate them?" he gasped. And for a moment I didn't know what he was talking about.

"Hate what?" I gasped as he bent his head and his tongue swiped across my nipple.

"My scars." He murmured, sliding another hand under my skirt.

"Never." I gasped, spreading my thighs. Suddenly I was lying on his cot, my legs wide open. He tore my panties in half trying to get them off. Then he dove at me and I felt that incredibly talented tongue caressing me. I gasped, arching hard. He slid a finger into me and I whimpered.

"Oh god!" I groaned. He giggled breathlessly and licked me faster. I clenched my teeth hard, trying to be quiet as my entire body jerked and shivered. His free hand raced over my heated flesh. I bit my lip to silence my cries. I had never come so fast in my life. "Fuck me!" I gasped as he drew back, that gorgeous smile on his face. He climbed onto the bed and lay on top of me. I pushed him back and peeled his shirt off and gasped.

"Oh my god." I moaned softly.

"What?" he snapped, suddenly defensive.

"Who did this to you?" I cried. His torso was littered with too many scars to count. He seemed annoyed.

"Forget it." He snapped and yanked his pants off. His lips met mine again, ending my protests and he thrust inside me.

"Oh… yes.." I hissed as he began to move. His thrusts were violent, but in all the right ways. I clutched him tight to me, his soft gasps and groans were such pleasure to hear. I was delighted to bring him joy after he'd suffered such misery. And I knew then I wanted to be the only one to make him happy this way.

"Fuck!" he suddenly gasped, clutching me tight, and after a few more thrusts his weight came crashing down on me. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, twining my fingers through his hair. He lay with his eyes shut, his head against my shoulder, panting softly. When he recovered, he raised his head to look at me. He stared at me for long moments, not saying anything. I began to grow nervous.

"You said you didn't hate my scars." He said, his expression accusing, eyes wary.

"I hate anyone who hurts you." I declared vehemently. His expression eased and a wicked smile replaced it. He laughed softly laying his head back on my shoulder and one hand on my breast.

"You're the best doctor I've ever had." He said with a quiet chuckle.

I laughed.

TBC!

ANONYMOUS ASSHOLE: you're cut! You're mad? Well that's what you get for pissing me off. Wanna threaten me to stop reading my fic? Go right ahead. I won't miss you at all.

EVERYONE ELSE: You guys have been wonderful, thank you so much for all the POSITIVE reviews!


	6. Chapter 6

TITLE: Vitiate

AUTHOR: Kichi

PAIRING: Joker/Harleen Quinzell

WARNINGS: Angst, obsession, violence, swearing, sex

NOTES:

ARCHIVE:

SUMMARY: A J/HQ with a twist, meaning the Joker is the obsessive one. Joker POV

"_Only the insane have strength enough to survive. Only the survivors determine what is sane." - Unknown Source_

I woke, alone in my room. For a few minutes I had to convince myself it hadn't been a dream. Then a smug smile graced my features and stayed for quite awhile. I wondered if she got caught sneaking out again. I guessed I'd find out soon enough. I also wondered if she regretted anything. I'd give her something to regret if she decided that what we'd done was "wrong". I was probably being paranoid, but it wasn't like I could help it. I wanted her again, immediately. And she wasn't around.

I knew I'd be in solitary for a few weeks at least, and for the first time I truly hated it. It was driving me wild. I wanted to see her again. I wanted to fuck her again. I wanted to strip away her professional exterior and have her on her knees, my little puppet, begging for more. And she would, I knew it. All this time I'd been thinking of ways to get her naked and I didn't even have to bother. She was mine, body and soul. And I meant to possess her utterly. But how long was I going to have to wait for her? How long _could_ I wait? Would she come to see me again today, or would she be afraid that it was too risky? Did she value her stupid job over me? And if so, how was I going to erase that idea from her mind?

It wouldn't be that hard. In fact, if we got caught together she'd be fired, and all I would have to do was break out and find her. She'd be so happy to see me, thinking I love her just because I bothered to look for her. Well I did love fucking her, hearing her moan and squeal. It was kind of shocking how much I'd loved it. It also made me angry, after all, I didn't need her but the desire was overwhelming. If she tried to use that against me in anyway, I'd have to kill her. Or at least, beat her ass. But I was pretty sure that wouldn't happen. After all she did come to me. And I did make her come. Pretty damn fast, too. That put another smile on my face and I relaxed.

I fell back asleep and when I woke again breakfast was waiting. It was crappy as usual, but I ate it all anyway. Hunger will make you eat the nastiest garbage with a smile on your face.

The hours wore on and I began to grow nervous. Well, not really nervous, edgy is more like it. I wondered where she was, what she was doing, and what the hell was taking her so long. She hadn't said anything yesterday about seeing me today, and I was pretty sure she was just being cautious, but a part of me was getting angry.

I can be a very jealous guy, and I hate it. I hate wondering what someone is doing when I shouldn't even give a shit. I hate thinking that she's off screwing someone else and not me. I hate the fact that I care enough to be angry at all. I began to pace my cell, and I was angry about that too. Why couldn't I just relax and wait? Why did I have to get a bug up my ass because she wasn't here when I wanted her to be? And it wasn't simply because I'm the Joker and she'd damn well better do what I say (not that I'd said anything after I fucked her- I pretty much fell asleep) although that is a pretty damn good reason in itself, I think. It's because she's mine now, whether she likes it or not. I don't own pretty much anything but my clothes (and now they're property of GCPD, damn it) and my weapons, but they're mine damn it, and no one has the right to take anything of mine.

I was ready to escape. I was ready to tear the place apart to find her and punish her for making me wait. Lunch came and went, then dinner as well and I was about to start screaming in rage. Getting out of solitary was going to be nearly impossible. The walls were thick and very well built, even as old as they were. The door was solid steel and couldn't be opened without the pass card. And there were no windows. Had I been in my old room I might have been able to get the shitty chicken wire off and break the glass, but there were still bars. There were always bars.

When she finally decided to grace me with her presence I was going to rip that card out of her hands and make a break for it. If she was lucky I wouldn't kill her. A part of me still didn't want to but I was getting so angry I wasn't sure I'd be able to help it when I saw her again. She was asking for it. How dare she make me wait? Who the hell did she think she was? I began to imagine various scenarios, me strangling her as she begged for her life, breaking into her office and beating her face against the top of her desk or slamming the door on her head again and again.

Then of course the day dreams shifted, as they had come to do so often lately. Soon I wasn't slicing her open, vivisecting her. I was behind her, fucking her brains out. I screamed in rage as my thoughts took that turn again and again. I couldn't think! Maybe I would be better off if I stayed away from her. She was too much of a distraction. Distractions could easily get you killed.

The day passed and night had fallen. It seemed to have fallen very early and I wondered what day it was, or more appropriately, what month it was. I was still tearing around in my room. I felt like I was ready to crawl out of my skin. My hands were itching to lock around her pretty neck. What the hell did I have to do to get someone in here?

It turned out that I didn't have to do a thing. She finally showed up, at what time I had no way of knowing. Probably just before her shift ended, whenever that was. I heard the lock click and I fled to the corner, hoping to surprise whoever it might be. It was her alright, gazing around nervously. I leapt on her, locking my hand over her mouth before she had a chance to scream.

"Naughty girl, keeping me waiting so long. Where have you been?" I purred in her ear, grinning when she melted against me. I grabbed her hand, found the key card, and yanked it away. She gasped and tried to pull away. "What's wrong? You don't like me unless I'm chained up and safely locked away?" I said, my tongue sliding out to lap at the skin of her pretty neck.

"What are you going to do?"

"Well it depends who you ask. A cop would say I'm escaping and kidnapping you." She stiffened and I grinned nastily. "I would say, I wanna take you to your place and fuck you raw for a few days." A sigh escaped her and I slid my hand down her front, cupping a breast. She shivered and I felt her soft bottom press against me. "Don't worry, you won't get blamed for anything. But if you tell anyone I raped you…" I let that statement hang on the air. I wasn't a god damned fucking pervert rapist. Anyone saying different would be very sorry.

"I would never."

"Well they'll ask when they see you walking funny." We both giggled at that.

"I'm not afraid. I trust you." She said, and I spun her to face me. Sure enough, I could see it in her eyes.

"Good." I said, trying to cover up my astonishment. "Then let's go."

Breaking out was too easy. It actually made me nervous. I held her tight every step we took, part of me fearing that she was setting me up. She knew which way to go to avoid detection. So much that we didn't run into a single person. It was kind of annoying that I didn't get to kill anyone, but escape was much more important. Besides, once I was out there would be plenty of people to play with. Especially the Bat. Oh god, I couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he found out I fucked my psychiatrist into submission. We got to the parking lot and into her car with no problems.

I was bouncing in my seat the whole way to her place. She lived in Old Gotham which was very good. Easy access to all my little hidey-holes. We pulled up to a small yellow house that had seen better days. As soon as she cut the engine, I grabbed her wrist and dragged her out the passenger door. As soon as she began to fumble for her keys I slid my hand down her skirt and into her panties. She began to fumble more as I reached her moist slit and instantly grew hard behind her. I ground my hips into her ass as she flung the door open.

My eyes scanned the darkness but she was already tugging my hand, leading me to her room. I shivered in anticipation and began to yank my clothes off. She was doing her best to get hers off as well when I grabbed her and tossed her on her bed.

She landed with a giggle and I climbed on top of her, shivering again as I took in her soft, supple form. Her thighs spread and I settled between them. I bit down on her nipple and she gasped, arching hard. I groaned and thrust into her, too horny and impatient to bother with foreplay. Her squeal was loud, much louder than before, easily covering my soft groan as I slid into that tight heat. I grinned when I realized we could be as loud as we wanted and no one could stop us. I set up a savage pace that had her quickly screaming in bliss and tightening around me in a delicious way. It hadn't been long since I'd first fucked her, but it felt like it and I knew I was gonna come quickly. Her nails suddenly dug into my back and dragged down my flesh, I groaned and bit her again, gently so she wouldn't start whining.

Suddenly she cried out and I felt her pulsing around me. I gasped and thrust faster, spilling into her seconds later with a shudder. My brain shut down for a second and when I could think again, my face was pressed into the hollow of her throat and her hands were running up and down my back.

"Wanna fuck you again.." I murmured. She laughed softly.

"We have all night."

"No, we don't." I said, pushing myself up on still-shaking arms. "You really think we can stay here?" She sat up, her expression confused. I giggled at the stupid look on her face.

"Why-?"

"You idiot, you broke me out of Arkham. Even if by some miracle we didn't get spotted on a singe camera, you can't be here and neither can I. If you're here the cops will know you helped me escape. So get dressed 'cause we have to get out of here." She opened her mouth to protest as I rose to my feet. "Don't give me that look. You knew what you were doing. Did you really think there would be no consequences? Did you expect me to move in here with you and live happily ever after?" I sneered, chuckling in amusement at her crestfallen expression. "Now grab what you need and let's go. I'm not leaving without you. And I don't care if I have to throw you in the trunk of your car to make that happen." She was pouting; it was starting to make me angry. I kicked her off the bed. "Get up, now!" I snarled.

She scrambled to her feet, clutching her side. She began to rifle through her dresser and throw stuff onto the bed. "I didn't say to pack anything!" I grabbed her elbow and shook her. "I said put some fucking clothes on and let's go. This is your last fucking warning, you've already had too many." I hissed in her ear as I dragged her close. She looked ready to cry and I hadn't even done anything yet. She had a lot to learn and I was eager to teach her.

She sat silently in the car. I giggled as she gave me the silent treatment. She really thought I gave a shit that she was mad. I knew she wasn't as smart as she pretended to be, but this was really something. Did she know who I was at all? Or did she "forget" it all because she wanted to fuck me?

"Did you really think we could stay there, huh?" I sneered at her as we headed towards the narrows. "What were you expecting, honey? Did you think I was gonna settle down and pop the question?" that gave me real fits; I swerved several times as I laughed hysterically. When I glanced at her again I saw fat tears rolling down her cheeks. "You did?!" I crowed, laughing harder still. How we made it to my place in one piece is anybody's guess. I was about to piss myself I was laughing so hard.

I grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside. Her expression was aghast at the filthy hole I'd brought her to. The house had to be a hundred years old, easily. Cobwebs clung to every surface; paint was peeling off of every wall. I loved every inch of it.

"Home sweet home." I chortled.

"I hate it." She whispered. It was the first thing she'd said in awhile. My smirk grew into a huge grin.

"Tough shit. Clean it up, then. I've got work to do."

"Why should I?!" she suddenly cried, shoving me with all her might, which wasn't much. I grabbed her face and slammed her head into the wall. She slumped a little, slightly dazed. I began to yank her clothes off.

"Harley, my dear, there's something you fail to understand." When she was naked I threw her to the floor, she cried out in pain, and when she tried to stand, I kicked her in the face. She lay on her back, groaning, as I stripped off my Arkham pj's. I pushed her knees apart and buried myself inside of her with one quick thrust.

She screamed, her face twisting in pain. I cringed; feeling like a pervert and hating her for making me feel that way. She was mine, damn it. I could do what I wanted. "You. Belong. To me." I snarled in her face, rage distorting my voice. Her eyes flew open and she stared at me fearfully as I rode her. "Do you understand? You're mine, to do with as I please. You will do whatever I tell you and you'll like it. And if you leave me.." I broke off laughing harshly. "Well, you better just kill yourself, because I'll make you wish you had." Tears fell from her eyes and I hated them. She did not understand at all. Even as she nodded quickly, I knew she was just doing whatever she thought would pacify me. I grunted and slammed into her harder. "You don't get it.. Do you?" I panted. "This is what you wanted… if you didn't you should have… never bothered me." I gasped.

"You're right." She ground out. The next thing I knew I was standing above her, breathing hard. She was lying beneath me, crying, blood leaking from her nose and mouth. I still felt the numbing rage as it slowly slipped away. What I'd done was clear as I noticed her right eye swelling shut.

"You lied to me." I spat. "Everything about you is a lie." I'd beaten her, that much was obvious. But to be so angry to not remember it, that was really saying something. I hadn't realized it, but apparently I desperately wanted her approval. It made me furious. But what angered me even more was that I wasn't getting it. What the hell was wrong with her? Who did she think I was? What did she expect would happen? Did she really think I was gonna marry her and all that bull shit? Had she heard _nothing_ I'd ever said?

I was confused. And so angry I could barely think. I grabbed her elbow, ignoring the way she recoiled, her eyes squeezing shut in fear.

"Get up." I snarled, and she slowly obeyed, wobbling as she made her way to her feet. "You need to learn a lesson. It may take awhile, but in the end you'll thank me." She tried vainly to struggle as I pulled her toward the basement, and it felt like someone had stuck a knife in my ribs and was twisting it. I didn't understand her. How could she do this, now after everything? It didn't make sense.

I led her down the stairs, my face twisted in rage. I led her to an old support column. At it's base was plenty of rope, I'd left it there earlier for just such an occasion. Little did I realize I would be using it to tie up my former psychiatrist. "You brought this on yourself, you know." I murmured conversationally. "If you would have been a good girl, I wouldn't be forced to do this."

"No one's forcing you to do anything." She snapped. I yanked her wrists as I tied them behind the column, satisfied when I heard the back of her head crack against the metal.

"If you say anything else to me I'm going to cut your tongue out. I've had enough of your shit. When you can learn to behave, take orders, and not act like _I'm_ the one who came into _your_ cell and spread _my_ legs, you can come back upstairs and help me." I stood, surveying my handiwork. I'd tied ropes from her wrists to her elbows. She wasn't going anywhere. "Until then, you can stay down here and rot. I hope there's rats down here." I snarled and turned towards the stairs.

"How the fuck can you do this to me?!" she cried. I froze in place, slowly turning to face her.

"You're a glutton for punishment. I like that." He eyes widened as I grabbed a rusty old knife from a nearby card table.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she gasped, trying to squirm away. I knelt in front of her, giggling when I realized we were both still naked.

"You need another lesson?"

"No I don't, please I'm sorry!" she begged, her eyes spilling tears.

"Harley, why did you come to my cell?" I asked, allowing her to glimpse the confusion I was feeling.

"I- I wanted you." She sniveled.

"And why did you set me free? For the same reason?" she nodded, her eyes downcast. "So what the fuck is your problem now?" I shrieked, diving forward and slapping her hard. She whimpered and dissolved into tears. I threw the knife down and stomped up the stairs. I didn't even want to hear her answer. I was so disappointed. A part of me wanted to kill her immediately over the outrage.

Did she expect me to be her dirty little secret? The thought had me grinding my teeth in fury. She had another thing coming if she thought things were going to go her way. She was going to be mine, one way or another. If I had to beat her into submission, I'd do it. If I had to lock her away, I'd do it. I'd bend her until she broke, and then I would rebuild her. It just made me furious that I _had_ to. I had severely misjudged her. And part of me just wanted to be rid of her.

TBC!

A/N: I am so sorry for how long this took to update. My PC broke TWICE this month, I'm at my mom's house using her PC right now. Mine is getting fixed yet again, though I really would prefer a new one. But I can't afford one right now so I have to make the best of it. Anyway, I've had a little change of plan, this fic was supposed to end with this chapter, but I thought it'd be more fun for Joker to turn Harleen into Harley Quinn. And I've got some terrible plans in store for her! If anyone has any ideas in regard to brainwashing and whatnot, I'd love to hear them! :D


	7. Chapter 7

TITLE: Vitiate

AUTHOR: Kichi

PAIRING: Joker/Harleen Quinzell

WARNINGS: Angst, obsession, violence, swearing, sex

NOTES:

ARCHIVE:

SUMMARY: A J/HQ with a twist, meaning the Joker is the obsessive one. Joker POV

"Extreme hopes are born from extreme misery." – Bertrand Russell

Interlude 2.0 – Harley

_ I hate him._ I knew I was a fool all along, but somehow I convinced myself that he wouldn't hurt me. He's upstairs screaming. Throwing things. I wonder if anyone will notice? Is there a hope in hell? Could someone hear him? The place he took us is desolate. I barely know where we are. I wasn't sure if we were still in Old Gotham, I hadn't seen amusement mile out my window either, so we couldn't have gone that far. But I had been in a daze as I suddenly realized my life was over.

He had been right after all, I should have left him alone. He was still screaming it. I was wondering when he was going to kill me. I knew he would eventually; I'm shocked he hasn't already. I think _I'm_ in shock…

I mean, this is it, this is really IT. I'm gonna die, I'm only twenty six!! It's not fair! I've been good!

_You've been so bad, and you're a liar! _I heard him roar upstairs and it stunned me. It was like he'd read my thoughts, and threw my own guilt right in my face. I shivered with dread, wondering what he was going to do, and how long it would take me to die. I heard him kicking things, throwing things at the wall. Breakable things. I prayed he would stay away from me.

Why hadn't I left him alone? _Why?_ How the fuck could I throw away my life and career for a murderous lunatic!? He's scary! He's evil! He's got beautiful eyes- no damn it! I hate him. I. _Hate._ Him.

He hit me. No one has the right to hit me. Not even someone as beautiful as- _NO!_

Enough. He's going to kill me. What does it matter that he looks like a fallen angel? I hang my head and cry.

_*_*_*_*_*_

I was jarred awake by footsteps on the staircase some hours later. I had to pee so bad I thought I was going to die. He appeared at the foot of the stairs, still in his Arkham uniform. I shivered with dread and closed my eyes. Lit up from behind like he was, he appeared demonic. I couldn't guess at his expression and he was utterly silent. He made his way forward, slowly, with a strange grace to his movements I'd yet to see. He looked like some wild animal stalking his prey. I cringed, whimpering quietly.

"Harrrrleeey…" he sang softly. I bit my lip to keep from screaming. "You've been a bad girl. And you must be punished…" _God, no!_ I cursed. This is it. I'm going to die. And it's going to take a _long_ time! I began to gasp, and couldn't stop.

"Please-" I choked, fear overwhelming me. "Please, let me go! I'm sorry."

"Let you go?" his enraged hiss cut through my jabber like a knife. Tension poured from his tense frame. "What makes you think I'll ever let you go? Hm?" He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked it back. I shrieked in terror.

"Please, I'm sorry! Just don't kill me, please, please!" I babbled. "I won't tell anyone you're here! I don't even know where we are!"

"Shut up, Harley." He said it softly, his features dark and furious.

"Don't kill me, don't kill me, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

"SHUT UP, HARLEY!" he roared, hands locking around my throat. I fought wildly. I'd never fought so hard in my life. I kicked and bucked, and dug my nails into his flesh and scratched as hard as I could. It did no good. He held me tight and laughed and laughed. It wasn't a laugh I'd heard before either. His hatred for me and his pleasure for my pain were evident and every part of me shrank from the horrible sound. He bashed my head into the support column I was tied to a few times, and then released me. "You need to shut up and listen when I'm talking." He said over my choked gasps. His voice was almost normal again. I'd be lucky if I could speak ever again. My throat _ached_.

My face was wet with tears and snot. I couldn't look at him. I hated him. He gripped my chin and I didn't dare pull away. "Look at me, Harley." He commanded. With great trepidation, I lifted my eyes.

His expression was not unfamiliar. Wrath blazed forth from his gray eyes and bore directly into mine. "I don't understand you. I'm still amazed at how disappointed I am in you. And until you find some way to make it up to me, you can rot down here." I gasped.

"No!" I cried before I could stop myself.

"You lied to me. You _used_ me!" he was practically shrieking. "You're lucky I haven't dismembered you already!"

"I didn't-!"

"STOP IT!" he bellowed and suddenly a knife was fluttering between his fingers. Before I could clench my jaw the blade was between my lips, ready to tear through my flesh. "Stop it. You lied to me. You used me. What did you think you were going to get out of it? Hm? You think I'm your latest toy, to be lost and forgotten when the novelty wears off? You think I'm just going to rot in my cell and hope for you to come jump on my dick when you feel like it? You. Belong. To me." I shivered and whimpered and tried to gently inch away without drawing his attention to me. "Do I need to carve a reminder in your face?"

"No.. Please." I sobbed.

"I think you need to stay here for awhile and think about what you've done. I can punish you another day."

"No!" I cried, reaching for him in an instinctual need for another human's presence. He snarled and shot forward again, too close, and the look in his eyes terrified me. The knife delicately traced the outline of my lips. I felt his scarred mouth press a kiss to my forehead.

"Sweet dreams, darling.." His laughter echoed down the stairs.

_*_*_*_*_*_*_

It is a strange experience to be alone in the dark. At first. Once you reach the other side of boredom you enter a horrifying place. A place where you think and do things you would never imagine. A place where your mind is your enemy. A place where every corner holds a potential threat and reality is superficial. Then reality becomes an idea. Then it becomes a dream. Your mind turns on itself like a starved snake. You second-guess every thought that crosses your mind. You doubt everything your senses tell you. It would drive anyone mad. It was driving _me_ mad.

I never could have known that the solitude was worse than any punishment he'd so far dished out. I had heard people say; "The walls were closing in on me." And hadn't understood. Now I knew completely. I could never have guessed. I wanted to be far away from him before, to never see him again. But I never meant like this. Now he was a floor away and all I wanted was to see him. He could hit me and cut me all he wanted as long as I could get the hell out of this hole. As long as I could be near someone. Anyone. Even him.

Every once in awhile he would stomp down the stairs and throw some food at me. Usually pizza or some kind of fast food. At first I ignored him, looking away until he'd gone. But as they days wore on I began to watch his every move. I stared longingly at him, begging with my eyes for him to speak to me. I didn't know why I couldn't say anything. I was still afraid, but I wanted out of there so badly.

Time meant nothing and everything in that dungeon. It dragged relentlessly. And yet I couldn't say for sure how long I'd been down there. I counted the bricks in the walls, then the cracks in the bricks. My mind was unraveling. I heard voices upstairs other than Joker's but didn't dare raise my own to draw their attention. One time I did hear the door open and Joker's voice snarl: "Don't go down there." The door slammed shut and footsteps hurried away.

But it wasn't long before the door opened again. I'd heard cars driving away and then silence. It was the first time he'd left in days- I assumed. I had been struggling to loosen my ropes the whole time I'd been down there and it seemed like I was making progress. When the door opened I froze in place, shivering when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

I could immediately tell the tread was lighter, more careful. The darkness had at least aided my senses. The footsteps were unsure, hesitant. I knew it couldn't be Joker. He stomped around, did as he pleased, and could never be described as 'timid'.

I held my breath as a figure descended the steps and came into view.

"Well, well, well." A hulking man with a raspy voice chuckled. "Welly, welly, well. If it isn't the good doctor."

"Untie me! Please!" I gasped, praying the man wasn't a first class fiend. He drew closer, grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh, now I wouldn't do that. That would be stupid. What do I get out of helping you, anyway?" he drew closer and his hand wandered down to grope his crotch. My heart turned to lead. "I'll tell you what: The Joker will personally remove my balls and force me to eat them. But he never said I couldn't have a little fun with you." I tried to kick him as he came closer and he laughed quietly. "You stink, honey. Lucky for you I don't give a shit. Doubt the freaky clown has been givin' it to you like I can." I turned red with rage and humiliation.

"Of course I smell! I've been lying in my own piss and shit for days, you fuck! Let me out of here, or I'll kill you!" I hissed, rage making my voice high-pitched and squeaky. He stood and disappeared into the darkness. I could hear him fumbling then a faucet running. He returned with a bucket in his hands and suddenly I was burning and soaking at the same time. I screamed in pain. The bastard had doused me with scalding hot water! Again another bucket was dumped on me, yet it was ice cold. I screamed again. "If he catches you, you're fucking dead!" I hissed.

"_If_ he catches me. He said he was going to be gone for _hours_." He sneered as he began to unzip and tug his pants down. I writhed, trying to escape the ropes that held me. I clenched my thighs together, but he pried them apart with little effort and thrust inside me.

It hurt. And he was noticeably less endowed than Joker, but I was always in a state of arousal around the scarred clown. This man repulsed me. He set up a savage pace that caused my head to bang into the support column repeatedly. I was trying to think of something, anything else to distract me when I heard footsteps flying down the stairs.

The man on top of me jerked away with a gasp, fumbling for his pants. It was Joker. The look on his face, I'd yet to see it. Wrath, hatred, these were all familiar. But there was something else there I'd never seen before. No words came from him; it was more like an inarticulate roar. He leapt on the man, knives flashing. The hulking beast fell with a shriek. Many more followed as Joker slashed and hacked at him.

I stared in numb silence as he killed his own henchman. When the man let out his death rattle, the Joker finally fixed his gaze on me. He was breathing hard and the look in his eyes was indescribable. Had it been anyone else I'd say I saw pity, remorse, even… empathy. But it couldn't have been. He opened his mouth to speak, but moments later snapped it shut and shook his head. He began to drag the body away. The shock was wearing off as he tugged the man toward the stairs.

"This isn't my fault." I snapped, my voice breaking. I was shocked when he actually _flinched_.

"I know." He muttered. He bent down to grab the corpse again, and then hesitated, straightening again. "Did you… Should I have let you kill him?" I wasn't as shocked by the suggestion as I should have been. What shocked me more was that he even bothered to ask. It made me unaccountably sad for him. He had no concept of what was right or acceptable. Killing the bastard wouldn't make me feel any better… at least I think so. And it wasn't as if two wrongs made a right. But things like that just _didn't occur to him_.

"That wouldn't make me feel better!" I spat.

"Yes it would." He said, nodding with absolute conviction. He smiled and laughed quietly. "Yes it would." He bent down to grab the corpse again.

"Wait!" I cried. I couldn't stand to watch him leave again! I was tired of being alone, I- I _needed_ him. Especially after being raped by one of his god damned thugs. But he ignored me, grabbed the corpse by its wrists and began to pull him up the stairs. "Can't you let me out yet?" I pleaded.

"I can't trust you." He snapped. I began to weep. I went a little mad, I suppose. I began to scream and scream until he came back down and covered my mouth.

"This is your fault that you're down here? Remember? You don't deserve anything from me. You should consider yourself lucky. I could have let that asshole rape you every day if I wanted. And this is the gratitude I get?"

"Please, don't leave me, please!" I wept, unable to understand what he was saying.

"No! You don't deserve it!" he yelled, walked over to the stairs, and dragged the corpse back down by its ankle. "Here's your company!" He bellowed and stormed up the stairs.

_*_*_*_*_*_

I didn't see him again for three days. I lay in my own filth, starved. Never in my life had I been so hungry, thirsty, miserable, and utterly hopeless. My waking hours were filled with tears and bitter self-recriminations, broken by his angered cries coming down the stairway. It amazed me that he was still occasionally shouting insults my way. It made me wonder if a small part of him truly cared after all. If he didn't care he would have killed me already. Or maybe he was merely drawing out my torture.

The corpse of the thug who'd raped me was thankfully not facing my direction. It began to rot and stink very quickly. If I was untied I might have cut him up into smaller pieces. The thought made me shiver, and not completely with revulsion.

When he finally appeared he was wearing his dark purple suit, and his horrifying makeup. That garish mask that hid his pretty face- I hated it. It frightened me. I whimpered and hid my face, unable to look at him. He laughed quietly, enjoying my fear.

"Poor little Harley." He cooed. I hear something sloshing, wet. My parched tongue gave me the desire to lift my head and risk a peek- to see if he'd enough mercy in his black heart to bring me something to drink.

He held a bottle of water in his hand. He giggled at the undisguised yearning in my eyes as I stared at it. He lifted it and jiggled it tauntingly in front of me. "Thirsty yet?" he asked, his voice a low, seductive murmur- a bedroom voice. I shivered and nodded. "What will you give me for this water?"

"Anything!" I gasp, uncaring of the consequences. "Anything!"

"Anything, anything?" he chimed back, his lips spreading in a smug grin.

"Yes! I promise."

"You promise to behave? To not try anything stupid?" he snarled, his face suddenly frightening in it intensity. I froze as his eyes drilled into mine. Whatever I said, I had to _mean_ it. This was my last chance and I knew it. I saw unspoken promises in that challenging glare. The repercussions would be deadly this time. And I didn't really care. I… missed him. Badly. I hated myself for it, but that didn't diminish the feelings.

"Y-yes, puddin'." I murmured demurely. He laughed again and opened the water bottle, holing it above my gaping lips. Half of it sloshed across my face and I cried out in agony. "Please, give it to me!" He burst out giggling as I wept, more of the precious fluid falling to the floor. "I beg you, let me drink it!" I cried. His laughter finally ceased, and he gave me a curious look. Did he approve of my begging? I didn't care at the moment, I was dying of thirst. He tenderly cupped the back of my head as I tilted it back. I groaned as the water rushed into my mouth. It was the most delicious water I'd ever had.

Soon it was gone and he still loomed over me, his breath coming faster. His hands rose up to grip my jaw and drag me forward. His lips came crashing down on mine. I responded, melting against him like I had before. I cursed my weakness and myself. I wanted to get away from him, didn't I? I hated him, didn't I? The word seemed hollow and empty. How could I want him, need him, and hate him at the same time? I couldn't. Maybe someone else could, but not me. I feared him because of what he could do, but I also _craved_ the things he could do. I hated his hideous mask, but only because it hid his face.

I felt him jerk and heard cloth hit the floor. The moment I felt his hands on my body I shrank away. "Please, I need a bath!" I gasped, humiliated. I was mortified that he could think to touch me when I was covered in my own filth. I began to cry again. "Please, please, I need a bath!" I cried. He snorted in frustration and tugged me to my feet after quickly slicing through my ropes. I sobbed as blood flooded my extremities. It was like being stabbed by needles everywhere, repeatedly. I staggered and nearly fell. He caught me around the waist and hauled me up the stairs, chuckling occasionally.

He carried me into an ancient bathroom and set me on my feet. I wobbled uncertainly but he'd already turned to the faucets, ignoring me. I glanced at the window behind me and saw dozens of nails and screws forcing it shut. I couldn't break it if I wanted to, my hands were on fire and they felt like lead. I stared down at them and saw they were bright red. At least blood was circulating to them.

The tub was an ancient claw-foot affair and he grabbed me and forced me to sit inside. Not that I minded. The water was coming out clear and hot and felt heavenly. It took forever to fill, and he did not leave the entire time. He closed the lid on the toilet and sat upon it, staring at me pensively. I let the water fill to nearly the top and sank under the surface, blocking him and the world out.

I sat in the tub for at least an hour. For most of that time he stared at me like he hated me. When he wasn't glaring at me, when he forgot to be angry he looked... Wounded. I must have seen wrong, but I like to believe that even one such as him can feel pain. Maybe not physical so much,, but _something_.

I was dozing when he reached in the tub and pulled me out. I gasped in fright and clung to him, unsure what was happening.

"All better, ya big baby?" he murmured darkly in my ear, his voice sending chills up my spine. I could do nothing but nod as he carried me to another dilapidated room and tossed me onto a bed. The pile of blankets on top was shockingly clean smelling. I wondered how he'd gotten them. He laughed outright as he saw me sniff them. "Does everything satisfy your highness?" he mocked.

"How…?" I dared to ask.

"Some kid was living in an alley down the street. I gave him a few jobs. Then I had a little fun with him... He's still around here, somewhere." He admitted, grinning nastily at the end. I shivered in dread. Some poor kid was dead because of him, and I was just as guilty. I felt bad, but a part of me didn't care at all_. Better him than me._ He stripped off his vest and shirt and I felt my body begin to tingle in response. I was again stunned by the amount of scars on his slim torso. Many of them were very old, signifying years of abuse. My heart clenched as severely as it had the first time I'd seen them. I licked my lips as he slid his pants off, and heard his breath catch. He climbed onto the bed and crawled over me. I parted my things without a second thought and he settled between them with a sigh. Yet I flinched again when he drew close to kiss me. He recoiled with a snarl.

"Now what?" it wasn't his normal voice that poured forth. I was guttural, animalistic, and terrifying.

"Your face! It scares me!" I squeaked in a tiny, babyish voice. "You don't look like you!" For a moment he appeared completely floored. Then he burst into peals of hysterical laughter. His weight crashed down on me, and I shook with the spasms rocking him as he cackled.

"You're funny!" he gasped and crushed his mouth to mine. Soon his kisses grew wild, insistent. I couldn't help but be overcome. I couldn't help but… love it. He began to lick, bite, and suck every patch of exposed flesh while I panted and writhed. His hand slid between us and then between my legs, easily finding the slippery warmth and rubbing it enthusiastically. I moaned in ecstasy, clutching him tight. "You'll be good, won't you Harley?" he gasped in my ear and suddenly grabbed my hips, violently thrusting into me.

"Yes!" I shrieked digging my nails into his back, fleeing him shudder as I wailed in rapture. He set up a savage rhythm that had me screaming. It was too good. His hands were everywhere, his mouth, and his tongue! _'Oh, bliss, bliss and heaven!'*_ To quote a book he'd suggested. I began to meet his thrusts, gasping wildly. He clutched me tighter and moaned in my ear.

"Promise me." He groaned and I wailed as his hot breath, tongue, and lips began to caress my breasts. "Oh!" he choked in my ear.

"I promise!" I whimpered. One hand slid under my back and up to grip the back of my neck as he picked up speed.

"Fuck!" he moaned as he came. He lay on top of me, gasping. He was damn heavy, too. But I was so happy to be out of the basement I couldn't care less. He rolled onto his side and clung to me as he panted for breath. "Never pull that shit again, you promise?" I checked a sigh. He would never forgive me. I could promise forever. But I meant it. I had learned my lesson. I had been bad. He had been right to punish me. I was gonna be a good girl, always. He would see, I'd make him see.

"I'm yours puddin' forever!"

TBC…

A/N: how about that? Lol. Also: Thank you CatinCanada for the ideas, I didn't really use them, but I appreciate it anyway :D

* - A Clockwork Orange


	8. Chapter 8

TITLE: Vitiate

AUTHOR: Kichi

PAIRING: Joker/Harleen Quinzell

WARNINGS: Angst, obsession, violence, swearing, sex

NOTES: I realized half way through I switched back to 3rd person POV! My bad!

ARCHIVE:

SUMMARY: A J/HQ with a twist, meaning the Joker is the obsessive one.

"_If you meet your master today, kill him." – unknown*_

She was becoming a distraction. Once he'd broken her he should have ended it there.

Not her_. It._ The sex. The constant urge to kiss her, touch her, and bury himself within her moist heat, every. Fucking. Day.

He constantly had to remind himself that he had work to do. Work she would be a part of, instrumental to. Work that would drive the Batman fucking ape-shit when all was said and done. The sweet, innocent, little Doctor Quinzel was now the Joker's mindless slave. She adored him. _Worshipped_ him. Anyone would have to be blind not to see it. And the Batman was a smart boy. He'd realize right away exactly what he'd done. Bats was undoubtedly searching for him right now- and Harley's corpse. He'd never dare to dream she was still alive, not after this long. It still amazed Joker on a daily basis.

What was it about her that made him constantly hard as a rock and eager to blissfully drown in her affection? It was a singular experience, he had to admit. One he could not recall ever having. She never tried to hurt him, or demand he do things he didn't want to do. Although, truthfully, she couldn't even dream of the very few things he would not allow a beautiful girl to do to him. Yet, a few times after he'd finally brought her up from the basement, she'd jumped him in the dark and grabbed his crotch. The first time he shrank away with a terrified gasp, his heart in his throat. He'd slapped her hard for that and refused to look at her for a week. He didn't know what had happened to unsettle him so badly; he'd realized it was her almost instantly. He couldn't think of a reason her touch would make him nearly panic.

Another time he was sleeping. She'd said later on that all she'd done was touch his face. From then on, if he fell asleep before her, she slept on the couch. He didn't remember much of that night, but he remembered waking up to gut-wrenching fear. It was an unfamiliar feeling, yet it also seemed second nature to him. He suspected it had been a natural state of mind in his previous life.

He attacked her, striking blindly. She was able to flee after the first blow-he was only half-awake. And when he finally came back to himself he was sitting in the corner of the room, his back to the wall, clutching his head as if in agony. His face was wet with tears and Harley was kneeling in front of him weeping, begging his forgiveness.

He was shocked. And confused. He wasn't sure what the hell had happened, but there was still a strange feeling twisting his guts. Her left eye was swelling shut. Her nose was bleeding. He reached up with a shaking hand to wipe his face and his hands came away blood-stained. His skin stung. When he looked in a mirror he saw five deep scratches on his face.

It was deeply troubling. He hadn't felt fear in so long he was sure he was immune to it. Was it the fact that she'd caught him off-guard both times? That he hadn't known it was her right away? Or was it just the feelings generated were so horribly intense and consuming? Not the mafia, not the police, not the Bat, and certainly not the asylum had ever made him feel.. so…

He winced as he remembered that the Asylum, had, in fact been a source of great misery and trauma for him. But it wasn't just that nasty business with Andy that had made him react so violently. It was something else. Something he knew he couldn't bear to remember. So he did his best to forget again. He told Harley to never sneak up on him again or touch him in his sleep. He knew she wouldn't anyway, but he didn't want to kill her on accident. It would be too much of a waste.

And he had a sickened feeling he might actually miss her. She was now adept at pleasing him. She had done nothing to anger or upset him in weeks. He had actually tried to find a reason a few times.

And once she aroused his interest, he didn't stop (couldn't stop) until they were finished. He tried hard to stay away from her, especially when his crew was around. If she showed a foot out of their bedroom when the men were about he dragged her back in the second he spotted her. After killing one man for raping her he'd still noticed them watching her. The lust in their eyes was unmistakable and he found himself violently furious when he caught them watching her. More then one man had lost his eyes and tongue in retaliation. The men watched their former fellows twitch and bleed out on the floor and still they looked at her.

He knew he was hiding her away like buried treasure, snarling and attacking like a dog protecting his favorite bone. It wasn't right. But he found himself unable to stop. Even worse, he didn't want to stop. He loved seeing her beneath him, face flushed, breasts bouncing as he rode her hard. She sucked his cock so good it made him want to scream some times. It took little effort to wring orgasms out of her. And it was fun! She was a tasty little thing and he took great pleasure in devouring her. The more they did it, the more he wanted it.

The most intense time, he'd yanked her skirt up, tugged her panties aside and buried himself within her with one quick thrust. A groan of relief escaped him as he did and he heard it echoed as she whimpered in his ear. He set upon her like a wild beast, pounding into her furiously. His choked cries were drowned out by her ecstatic wails. She rained kisses upon his sweating brow as he drove into her again and again. And when she came, she clamped down on him so hard he couldn't help but come too, a harsh moan tearing from his throat. And when he collapsed on top of her and she clutched him tight, he found that he did not hate it like he had at first.

After all, she was warm and sweet and so very soft. And he was cruel and hard and so sharp, but he had begun to melt in her arms in those moments when he was still hazy and shaking from his release.

It seemed her new mission in life was only to make him happy. And she was good at it. A few days ago he'd just returned from robbing Gotham National Trust. He and his men had split the money. It wasn't for any of his plans; it was just that they'd needed money. The house he'd found was totally empty, they needed food and Harley demanded cleaning supplies. More guns and ammo were necessary, and the boys had also been so kind as to stock a tiny bar in the filthy living room and buy a TV.

She cleaned and cooked as if he cared. She had to know he would sleep in the dirt if he had to and wouldn't mind one bit. He wondered what she was thinking. Then it all became clear as she followed him into the bedroom and began to unbuckle his belt and tug at his trousers. Did she think all he cared about was sex? Because he didn't. But, he reasoned, she thought it made him happy. She was a simple creature with simple tastes, not like him. All she wanted to do was make him happy. He didn't understand it, or her. But wasn't this what he'd wanted? The woman who had once been so sure of herself, so proud, was reduced to his willing and eager slave. As her hot mouth engulfed him, he found he didn't remember why this was a bad thing.

She was manipulating him, whether she knew it or not. He realized it, yet he did nothing, which was even worse. He fretted over his growing attachment to her (not love, of course, not even _close_), over his violent jealousy, and then she made him forget it all with her pretty mouth or her inviting flesh. It was deeply troubling. She was a tool for his use. Not someone to grow jealous over, not someone to distract him from his goals. But she was becoming a distraction. And what use did she have lately besides eager lover? He didn't need a maid, or a cook, or a girlfriend. He needed a pawn. But her role had changed, somehow.

He'd had plans for her, he hadn't forgotten, had he? It had been something devious. Something to put her in her place. Something to horrify the Bats and really piss him off. But it seemed like they had instead fallen into a predictable pattern, like a regular couple. It had to stop. And it would.

The big day was only a few hours away. His men were busy getting drunk when Harley had come up behind him (clearing her throat as she always did now to let him know it was her behind him) and pulled his over coat and jacket off.

"Come lay down." She murmured softly. The day had been a long one and ultimately disappointing (he _had_ been hoping to see the Batman, even if only for a moment), and he had been far too busy to even spare her a glance for days. She took off his vest, tie, shirt, and pants. She sat behind him and began to knead the knots out of his shoulders. He groaned softly. She gave really good back rubs. She really rubbed hard and his muscles felt like jelly when she was done. A few times he'd fallen asleep, but mostly he got aroused. Once she worked her way down on either side of his spine, and as he felt his eyelids drooping shut she worked her way back up quicker and with lighter touches. It never failed to send chills up his spine and make him hard as a rock.

Usually these sessions always ended in sex. But he wasn't quite sure he was in the mood. Her growing power over him was becoming intolerable. He refused to acknowledge her attempts to arouse him, and after a few minutes he quickly rolled away from her and burrowed under the covers.

"What's a matter, puddin'?" she cooed. "Ratman will show up next time, I'm sure of it!" she tried to sound cheerful, as if that could be the only thing possibly bothering him. He told himself again and again that he still needed her. He had big plans for the morning and he wasn't going to ruin them by killing her now. He needed her for one more day. One more day and he could slit her open like a pig and dance in her entrails. One more day and he could dangle her in front of the Bats nose and laugh when he failed to save her.

A part of him was beginning to think that in one more day he would be thoroughly besotted- at least, as much as one such as him _could_ be – and all his plans would go down the drain.

"You remember what tomorrow is, right?" he hissed menacingly from under the blankets.

"Sure do, puddin'!" she giggled. "We're gonna teach the Bat a thing or three!" He felt his eyes nearly pop loose from his skull.

"We?" he sat up, flinging blankets away. "WE?!" She immediately cowered away, bringing a hand up to shield her face.

"You are, puddin'! I meant _you_ are!" _Teach her a lesson!_ His mind screamed. _Just who does she think she is?_ He smiled, slowly, a twisted grin that never failed to scare her senseless. "I'm sorry Mistah J! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it!" she gasped, leaping off the bed and backing away.

"Yes, my dear. I will show Batman just how terrible I can be. And you will help me, and you won't screw up, will you?" he said, rising from the bed and revealing a knife.

"O-of course I will! I won't let you down, I promise!"

"I know you won't let me down, Harley. Because you know what will happen if you do, isn't that right?" he smirked. She shivered and her gaze dropped.

"Yes, sir." She whispered, shivering.

"Good girl." He sneered. He climbed back into bed as she made a hasty retreat.

He woke to find it still dark. He looked around in confusion, wondering what had woken him when he heard noise from the next room. He grabbed his Glock and stepped outside. She was wearing a mouth-watering ensemble and for a long moment he couldn't tear her eyes away.

"You think he'll like it?" she asked and heard one of his men mumble 'Yeah, yeah.' Like he couldn't give a shit either way. The man was either blind or gay, because he was about to rip the little outfit off and screw her brains out. He grit his teeth and tried to ignore his body's insistent demands. _This is becoming a problem,_ he tried to argue_, I don't need to screw her every five minutes!_

_But I _want_ to!_

She had high-heeled boots on that came up to mid-thigh. One black, one red, both very shiny. She had a black and red corset on, tiny black panties, and two gloves that went up to her mid-upper arm. One was black and the other red- like everything she wore. She did a pirouette and gasped when she caught him staring. Her lips were blood red lined with black. She had thick black eye liner and red eye shadow, and her face was very white.

"You like it?" she chirped. He could only nod, stupidly, all internal arguments ceased. She smiled and wantonly licked her lips.

"One thing is missing." He ground out through suddenly parched lips.

"What?" she gracefully danced forward.

"This." He said, grabbing her arm and brandishing a knife. She immediately tried to recoil.

"Now, now, I'm not going to cut anything off. I just want to send Batsy a little message, that's all." She began to shake in fear, but no longer tried to escape. "Where to begin…" he trailed off, musingly. Her back? Her shoulder and upper arm? Her chest? Her thighs? They _were_ creamy and beautiful. They _were_ unmarked. And any mark he made there would ignite the righteous fury and indignation he loved so much in the Bat.

He dropped to his knees and held the point against the outside of her thigh. He began to make neat slices, carving his name and a few other things besides. When he was done, she was shivering, but the look on her face was anything but frightened. 'Property of Joker' seeped blood down her leg. "How do you like that?" he smiled up at her.

"I love it!" she gushed, and as usual her enthusiasm was completely genuine. He leaned close and kissed the wounds, swiping his tongue across them, sampling her blood. She was so yummy. She was like a drug. He was addicted, and despised himself for it. But it did not make him want her any less.

"Tomorrow night the Bat is going to see you for the first time. He's going to be very upset with me, I think." Harley giggled.

That night was the best in her recollection. He devoured every inch of her like a starving man. He made her scream until her throat was raw. When he collapsed on top of her with a gasp she held him close and for the first time he actually wrapped his arms around her instead of tensing in her arms and then shoving her to the floor like he usually did. It filled her with joy and fear. He never held her. Never. Yet he clung to her as though she'd be torn away. What exactly was he planning? Her role was very small and she hadn't thought to question it, but his performance this night seemed like he had gone out of his way to make it the best and burn it into his memory so he'd never forget. Did he plan on leaving her? Using her as bat-bait while he escaped? Something didn't seem right. But she couldn't bear to question him and ruin the moment.

It didn't matter anyway, whatever he wanted her to do, she would do. No problems, no questions asked. He murmured drowsily and squeezed her. She smiled.

***

He was ready. They were ready.

The plan was to rob Wayne Pharmaceuticals. His men would get the boring, run-of-the-mill drugs that normal people seemed to covet. They would sell them, pop them, whatever they pleased, he couldn't care less. He was after something much more interesting. Actually, several something's.

In Arkham he had bullied a certain recipe out of a certain scrawny former Doctor. There were several key ingredients. Wayne Pharmaceuticals was the only place in Gotham that had them. The place had top-of-the-line security. But he had several skilled members of his crew who easily and eagerly dismantled the alarms. They headed to the labs and storage. Everything he needed was there. Joker found all the items quickly, chuckling in amusement. Harley helped the men stuff duffel bags full of Oxycotin, Tramadol, Vicodin, Codine, and other boring drugs.

He was stuffing his finds into his own bag when he heard his men begin to choke. He looked up and saw smoke filling the room. He snarled in rage.

"Not yet, damn it!" he hissed under his breath. The bastard never showed up when the clown wanted to see him and when he wasn't ready the Bat was early! He shot to his feet.

"The show doesn't start till later, Batsy, if you wouldn't mind..?" he yelled as he took off running. Harley and his men were quick on his heels. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a large black shape barreling through the smoke. He couldn't help but trip over his own feet at the sight. He did love his Bat, after all. The man was simply magnificent, and his entrances were always spec-_tac_-ular!

He scrambled to his feet with a peal of laughter and kicked a door open that led to a stair well.

"The building is surrounded, Joker!" the dark knight snarled. Joker fled upstairs, Harley and his men scrambling after him.

"That prick! How dare he invite GCPD?" Joker snarled. He had anticipated all of this, just not so damn early. He could escape on the roof, he'd already planned to after all, but not yet! He cursed as he tore up the remaining flights and shot out onto the roof. He heard cries from the stairwell. The bat had already caught up to his men. He scanned the roof as Harley stumbled out the door.

"He's coming!"

"No shit, Sherlock!" he snarled. "He's early! Everything is ruined!" the last word came out a shriek. Harley flinched. He ran his fingers through his hair and snarled, drawing his Glock. "I am NOT ready. I need these chemicals." He ran toward the ledge, Harley at his heels. The Bat emerged from the stairwell and ran at them, full tilt.

He grabbed Harley, jerked her close, and held her in front of himself like a shield as Bats drew near.

"Heya Bats, long time no see! Unfortunately you caught me a tad early! I was all set to make tea and cakes for us!" The dark knight said nothing, his blue eyes flashing beautifully with anger- just the way Joker liked them! "Oh! How rude of me, I forgot to make introductions! Harley, this is Batman. Batman, this is Harley!" his voice sped up a little as he sought to keep the man at bay for a few precious seconds.

"Dr. Quinzell?" the Bat said, his expression suddenly, gorgeously, horrified. Just as he'd hoped. He shivered and felt a peal of laughter well up.

"At your service." Harley bowed and murmured in her bedroom voice. Joker couldn't help but grin.

"What have you done?" the Bat hissed, his voice full of that lovely rage, those ice-blue eyes locking with Joker's again.

"Honestly? Not much. The poor girl just couldn't help herself!" he giggled wildly. "She was smitten like a kitten, couldn't keep her hands off me!"

"That's right." She cooed. Batman blinked in astonishment and Joker couldn't help but laugh. As he did he stepped closer to the edge. A move that didn't go unnoticed by his dear, dark detective, who also edged forward.

Harley stayed in her place, between the two opposing forces.

"Dr. Quinzell-" Bats began, his expression wary.

"Harley!" she brazenly cut him off, her chin jutting outward in defiance, her hands on her hips. One hand trailed down to her thigh, and he grinned at the rage in the Bat's blue eyes as he saw the clown's earlier handiwork with the knife.

"…Harley, I don't know what he's done or said to you-"

"And believe me, you probably don't want to!" Joker cut in, giggling as he took another step back. He glanced behind him. The next roof over was only about a ten feet drop. The alley in between, however, was about a twelve-story drop. He was sure he could make it, even with the gun and duffel bag. The question was: could he make it without damaging the contents within?

The bat stepped forward again. Joker grabbed Harley and wrenched her close.

"Harley, listen to me, you don't have to do this. He's using you! That's what he does. He doesn't care about you!" Joker felt Harley stiffen in his grasp and shot an annoyed glare at the dark knight.

"Shows what you know, jerk! You don't know anything! Why don't you fly home, bat boy?" she sneered. Joker shot the Bat a smug grin.

"I don't want to hurt you-" Joker laughed.

"Oh, of course you do- don't listen to him Harley, he loves nothing more than abusing clowns!"

"No problem, puddin'!" she grinned and suddenly a gorgeous, huge knife was in her hands.

"Smart girl!" he giggled.

She attacked. She was at once beautiful and deadly. He stared in dumb shock as she flipped around the Bat with little effort, dodging his attacks. He knew he should be using her distraction to escape, but he was having a hard time tearing his eyes away.

"Kick his ass, sea bass!**" he shrieked, laughing hysterically. She put on a good show, but it quickly became apparent that it was little more than that. Or perhaps the Bat was just too damn good and kicking the shit out of people. He assumed it was the latter. Soon Harley was pinned in his grasp like a struggling butterfly. He was about to make a run for in when Harley shrieked in rage and brought her pointy heel down with all her force onto the Bat's foot. He snarled but didn't let her go. Joker eyed the drop behind him. He needed a running start. The only way was an even greater distraction. He'd not had time to rig any bombs. But there was one thing he could try. Perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone. Maybe even literally. He chuckled, ignoring that it came out rather forced.

"Harley, come on, already!" he snapped, as though impatient. She began to struggle like an angry cat, writhing and clawing until the Bat released her with a curse. Joker grabbed her again and dragged her near.

"Bats it has been such fun, but I can't hang out anymore, Mom wants me home for dinner and I _so_ hate to disappoint her!" He dragged Harley to the edge, smiling at her look of smug superiority. "Harley did I ever tell you that you're the best doctor ever?" She graced him with her most beautiful smile as the Dark Knight edged closer still. He kissed those painted lips and _shoved_.

She fell between buildings with a gorgeous scream. The Bat gasped and dove after her with no hesitation. Joker watched them fall for only a moment before he raced to the edge himself and leapt. He made it to the other roof without incident. He didn't bother to look and see what had become of Harley. She had fulfilled her purpose. Not quite how he'd imagined it, to be sure, but she had just the same.

For a brief moment, as he ran, he felt a pang of… Something he didn't quite like. He thought of Harley writhing beneath him, the way she held him, the way she looked at him. He had a sudden irrational thought that he'd made a mistake. Then he had a near irresistible urge to make sure the Bat had caught her in time.

But the thought was fleeting. He had more important things to do. Worrying about his former shrink was pointless and stupid and he was neither of those things. It would be easy enough to forget her. He was good at forgetting things he didn't want to remember. She was a distraction first and foremost. One he'd never needed. She wasn't important in the grand scheme of things and never had been. He didn't – _wouldn't_ – care what became of her.

She was only a doctor after all. And not even a very good one, when you got to the brass tacks. He tried to laugh, but for some odd reason it stuck in his throat.

The End

A/N: So sorry for the delay, I hope this makes up for it! Reviews are love! Sorry for posting and deleting then reposting I saw WAY too many errors and probably still missed a few!

* - From an old Marilyn Manson T-Shirt I have.

** - Yes that is totally from 'Dumb and Dumber'.


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